


Mercy for Ruin

by Cloudyerd11



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Best Friends, But Aren't Anymore, But in this one he's not, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Dadza, Dadza- Freeform, Death, Death Threats, Demonic Possession, Demons, Devine Entity, Don't ship them, Dream Demon, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Dream and BadBoyHalo are long time friends, Dream is not an asshole, Dream is not in Ranboo's head, Due to Reasons :), Enemies to Friends, Explicit Language, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Friends vs Friends, Fundy and Dream Used to be Engaged, Ghostbur My Beloved, HELL YEA, Human Shields, I Heard There was a Secret Place, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, In other stories he is, Matter of Life and Death, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Multi, My boy BADBOYHALO has WINGS, No Going Back, Old Friends, Philza Has Wings, Please Note That, Poor Life Choices, Post-War, Power Dynamics, President Toby Smith | Tubbo, Quackity is Kind of a Jerk, Ranboo Has Panic Attacks (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has a Tail (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo my beloved, Secrets, Techno and Wilbur are not twins, Techno has voices, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This Writer is a BadBoyHalo and Dream Apologist, Threats of Violence, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Trading lives, Tubbo and Tommy are friends, Where Man Could Go and Emancipate, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur is Oldest, Win it or Lose it, You Muffins, cause why the hell not, eeeeeeee, everyone needs a damn hug, skeppy needs a hug, sorry friends, technically, tubbo is adopted, yeaaa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudyerd11/pseuds/Cloudyerd11
Summary: “You are a God in this world, Dream. You may walk and live among them like a mortal man but you’re not. You are so much more, with so much more power than them. So why not let me show you?"-----The war ended months ago, and the world has never felt so quiet. Not necessarily at peace with people still being hunted or living in hiding, but there are no more battles or strategies or planning. It is simply quiet.Yet, that can never exist for too long.There is something living among them, a life that entered the world during the final battles of L'manberg. It feeds on their anger and fear, doing everything possible to start another war. If only they could see it or know when it's coming. If only they knew how to fight against it, protect themselves from it's control.If only it would stop taking possession of their thoughts and wills...*Postings will be every MONDAY*
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	1. Initial Mercy (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this story under the impression that those represented within the story are fine with me writing about their fictional characters. If at any point anyone mentioned in this story expresses their disliking for how their characters are being portrayed in this story or interacting with other characters, I will edit them out of this work or deleted the story entirely.
> 
> So please don't sue me ;)
> 
> New chapters posted every Friday

_“There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor once a part of L’Manberg…”_

It was encircled by darkness, one unbeknownst to most. One of emergence, promise, change, and indifference. In this single moment, it was pure; purpose unpromised and fate to be assigned. Only at this instance could this new life’s meaning be decided, never changing after its eyes were opened to its world.

_“It was never meant to be…”_

This opening is different somehow; it’s being set in a place of ruin and creed, not hopeful and breathtaking like the others. Entities were meant to be born in kindly settings, waiting to spread their love to the world. Not this, a world constantly under siege by that of its own people, falling over and again in an endless anger brigade.

_“You want to be a hero Tommy?...”_

Turn around, dear entity. You don’t want to witness this. Go back to sleep and awaken on a different day, at a different time. Come into this world at a time when you will be enlightened by what you see and strive to keep it that way. Not here… please… not now.

_“Then die like one…”_

It opened its eyes, taking in everything. 

The pain, the anguish, the blood, the tears. It watched a world exploding, detonated by one of its own. Invisible eyes observed the terror being released by another. There was a shimmer of unkillable pink. A flash of powerful green.

No soul went unnoticed under the entity’s attention. It gazed upon their appearances, every detail etched into its memory. It knew who each one was, what they wore, how they spoke, the ways they moved. Their personas. Their names.

It smiled.

The cries of war were becoming music notes to its ears, the flames and sparks a painting. Even the smell of death was fulfilling its satisfaction. It wanted more, never getting enough. It mourned when the world grew quiet, begging for any drop of insignificant conflict that occurred.

No, this is not how an entity should be made.

_Yes, this is what this entity was born to do._

This is how it shall live, amongst them without their knowledge, controlling their lives until it’s too late for them to notice. It’ll live off their agony, their lust, their hatred. It’ll make this world exactly as it wants.

If they want to kill each other and run their world into the ground countless times again, then that it will allow. If they want to avoid their breath-given destinies, to run from the simple uncontrollable meanings their lives are providing, then that’s what they’ll do. And, if they want to rise against that or which is pushing them into the ground, to be anything more than the mortal souls they were given, then they shall all learn. If they want to be heroes… 

Then they shall die like ones.


	2. No Mercy For Thee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place before the events of doomsday and anything that has occurred during the month of January. The events that have taken place before this story that are taken into consideration are: the L'manburg/Pogtopia war, the death of JSchlatt, the betrayal of Wilbur Soot, the spawning of withers by Technoblade, the death of Wilbur Soot/birth of Ghostbur, the attempted execution of Technoblade, the joining of Ranboo to the SMP, and the exiling of TommyInnit. Please keep these events in mind when reading!
> 
> Thank you, you lovely people!
> 
> >>> Hi friends. Editing Cloud here. To be honest, I didn't know much about Eret as a lore character when I first wrote this chapter, so I didn't know that Eret has white eyes and was part herobrine (or whatever it is they're going by). I went back and fixed that for you guys. Thanks! :)
> 
> >>> Okay. Last thing. I just found out that Eret prefers the pronouns they/them and I wrote those wrong throughout the ENTIRE CHAPTER. I don't know if I'm going to fix that, however, because I kept referring to the other person as they/them and I don't want to create confusion. If it absolutely bothers you guys, let me know and I'll try to fix it. Thanks friends. :)

The powerful king sat on his throne, overlooking his domain.

Well, that’s not true. _Yes,_ he did have a crown and _yes_ he did have a castle - which, next to Punz and debatably the joint board of BadBoyHalo and Skeppy, was the biggest house in the world - but he didn’t have any subjects or people to lead. He did for a brief period when Dream made him _King Eret of the Dream SMP_ , but he has long lost the title, choosing to simply wear the crown as decoration at this point.

He did still have power though.

Not as much as some of the others, but he has influence. He was still a decider in the changes that occurred on the SMP. it made him feel honored and respected, despite everything that he had done in his past. This was his reward for following the direction of his leader.

And the L’Manbergians could go screw themselves.

Since that day he betrayed L’Manberg for the honor of the SMP, he has been both loved and hated equally. He was now written in their history - _literally_ \- as Eret the Freedomer and Eret the Traitor.

You can’t please everyone though.

Never in his life had Eret been a pleaser; it was too much of a burden to handle. Plus it was overrated doing what everyone else expected of you, especially when it went against your own beliefs. Maybe that was the reason for his betrayal because he chose to follow what he himself thought was right. It was certainly the reason he walked straight through L’Manberg with a dress and black heels - the looks from everyone that day had been priceless - so why couldn’t that be the reason he wanted, the excuse he was looking for?

The excuse for what exactly? He did some things that he wasn’t proud of, but he didn’t hold any regrets. That was another thing of his - he could feel bad within the moment for doing something, but he never really felt guilty about it afterward… 

“ _Guilt. What a funny thing to say you don’t have.”_

Eret’s head lifted, his thoughts escaping him. That… that wasn’t him was it? Who just said that? That wasn’t something he had said right?

The Brit peered at the yellow clock on the wall next to him. _Ghast_ it’s early. No wonder he was hearing shit.

Or did he?

_Surely they’re not here yet_ , he thought to himself, rising from his gold throne. The others - Dream, George, and Punz - were supposed to meet him here to discuss some of the new land and structure proposals, but that wasn’t for another hour or so. The sun had barely finished rising yet, no one was bound to be here yet.

_So who the hell_?

Slowly, Eret rose from his throne, looking towards the doorway opposite of him. One hand gripped the handle to his sheathed netherite sword, the other slowly wrapping around the black frames of his sunglasses. He never took off his sunglasses in front of other people. _Never_. It was like a religious aspect to him. Even when Dream asked him to remove his crown after being demoted from King, he refused to do so because it would imply that the glasses had to come off too. His glasses were the equivalent of Dream’s mask.

And _everyone_ knows how Dream feels about that mask.

Yet something in the back of his mind was asking him _what if it isn’t someone?_ There was the possibility that a mob was in his castle and that he had imagined that it was a voice, but did he want to risk it?

The sunglasses fell off his nose, revealing his beautiful snowy white eyes.

_For the protection of himself and his castle, yes_.

To be honest, he didn’t know what to do with glasses when they weren’t on his face, so he tucked them into his shirt collar. He had to squint too. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken them off during the day. Everything was so bright, and it was honestly burning his eyes.

Eret stepped down, approaching the entryway to his throne room. He walked slowly, though even he didn’t know if it was out of caution and fear or simply because he couldn’t see that well. What exactly should he do here? Should he call out into the silence? Should he take them by surprise?

The hallway was empty. Completely. Yet, every single hair stood up on the back of his neck.

If there was one thing the former king knew was every minuscule detail of his castle. He had built it himself. He knew where every single stone block was placed and the exact location of every torch scattering his walls.

The lighting is wrong. He stole a peek at the right hallway behind him. Dark. Lines grew across his forehead when he turned to the left hallway in front of him. Slightly less dark. Someone had a light with them, using it to light their way. _Rookie move, dumb ass_ , Eret thought to himself.

A shadow along the far wall moved, the extra glow from the light disappearing around the corner.

Eret smiled.

He didn’t necessarily run, but rather jogged, hand securely on his sword. At the turn of the hallway, he flattened himself against the cold stone. His warrior senses kicked in, the sounds of the hallway creating a mental picture in his mind.

The secret person was moving - clearly - but the sound of footsteps along the floor was missing. _Hmm. They must have silk-touch boots on_. Eret closed his eyes, trying to extend his hearing further. There it was, the sound of movement, of walking through air. It was a special touch of his - he called it a sixth sense specialty of his - though he was sure others like Sapnap or Punz had a similar skill.

They turned right, Eret’s eyes opening in surprise at the unexpected sound of a wooden door slamming shut. He frowned. There were two wooden doors in this part of the castle, and frankly, he would have preferred the far door to his enchantment room had been the one to close. To his disappointment, it was the one to the room right around the corner.

They were in his storage room.

He was dealing with a thief.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. If they were a thief, why would someone who’s trying to be as secretive as possible give away their intentions so easily? Even if he wasn’t a defensive warrior with advanced hearing, why had they bothered talking to him? Unless - of course - he had made up the voice, but still. Why give themselves away? Isn’t that kind of defeating the whole purpose?

Unless they wanted him to know they were there.

Unless they were trying to lure him into something.

Eret took in a deep breath. He wasn’t prepared for this, not in the slightest. He had his enchanted netherite sword and a handful of bread to heal his hunger and… nope. That was it. He didn’t even have a shield on him. The hell was wrong with him? He was a king - a warrior king - he should be ready for anything.

He peered around the corner, eyes locking on the closed wood plank. He scowled at the sight of a soft glow being emitted from under the door.

_Fuck it._

The door gave way violently under his boot, a few splinters breaking off the edges. The glimmer of his blade was the first thing in the room, ready to propel itself forward. Eret had his other hand raised, not completely sure for what but it was up anyway.

So… 

Here he was…

In his storage room…

… 

So why the fuck is no one in here?

“I’m losing my mind.” The Eret scoffed, exclaiming to himself and only him. “I’m totally losing my mind.” He put his sword back in its sheath as he turned around, sunglasses once more returning to his face. It kind of made sense. The imaginary voice was just that - imaginary. Also, the wind was a thing, so maybe one of the torches went out or was moving and he was putting WAY too much thought into it. The door. Mobs spawn all the time in his dark hallways - he really needed to fix the torch placement in here - and they are guaranteed to run into the most random things. Especially Endermen, and boy do those critters get _angry_.

“Take one look at me and you might think I’m as crazy as Techn…”

The slamming of the door in front of him was deafening. His vision goes blurry as the back of his head comes into contact with hard stone. He hadn’t even felt anyone place a hand on him, to begin with. Yet when he opened his eyes, the fingers of an ungloved hand passed briefly before wrapping around his neck. They weren’t tight enough to the point of being unable to breathe, but they were tight, pinning him to the wall.

Eret unsheathed his sword, swinging it forward. When a hand covered his - disarming him without a second thought - and the sound of his sword clattering to the ground was heard through the room, he finally realized he was in trouble.

He looked up, finally gazing upon his attacker.

Ghast they were terrifying. Even Eret wasn’t afraid to admit it - in his own mind of course. The color of the void was all they wore; he didn’t think he had ever had so much trouble seeing someone who was standing right in front of him. Their tall figure allowed them to look at him directly, yet they still looked like they were looking down at him, which made him especially uneasy. The most frightening detail was their eyes. They weren’t a designated color; one could see it as fiery orange, evil red, or anything they could directly distinguish. And their eyes themselves. Their eyes were glowing. Not figuratively. Eret could see the color reflecting off the pale skin of its cheeks. Nothing that was natural in this world glowed like that. Unless you counted the shimmering glows of enchanted items… 

Eret’s stomach dropped.

_Magic_.

This person wasn’t human. They couldn’t even be classified as a person. Then what was… what species was this? Who are they?

“ _Magic. Of course, that’s your first guess_.”

His eyes went wide. Their lips hadn't moved. At the same time, neither had his. 

“Wha…?”

“The influential one.” Its alto voice was fear-inducing, almost slithering through the air to his ears. It - _she_ \- had an accent like him, but still sounded nothing like him. “The Eret.”

Eret chuckled. “The attacker. You. The one that should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

“Says the one with a hand around their neck.”

Eret swallowed. Her response, it had been so dry. There was no emotion in her voice, not even a hint of anger or overconfidence. What the hell? Didn’t she have even a hint of remorse? Maybe a second of hesitation? No, of course, it wouldn’t. This thing isn’t even living. What reason would it have to possess basic human emotions?

“Alright fine,” Eret sighed. He dropped all signs of fear from his face, even going so far as to put a sarcastic smile on. _Whatever it takes to hide the truth_. “I’ll give in. What do you want from me, huh? Stuff? Intel? Cooperation? I’ll give it to you, just state your price.”

“Now, why in this pathetic world would I want knowledge on the people I already know everything about?”  
“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard it alright. I just don’t understand what you mean.”

It was her turn to let out a chuckle.

“Quick-minded. It’s starting to make a little more sense as to why they would pick you. Although you should hold your tongue sometimes; that's not too important.”

“And what exactly is?”

“Nothing that you need to be overly concerned with.”

“Really? The current situation seems to state otherwise.”

She remained quiet, eyes acting the opposite. They wouldn’t sit still, constantly observing him, squinting in thought, and occasionally fazing over only to become clear again. She was studying him - keeping track - not that he had anywhere he could go.

“Earlier,” he said. “You called me ‘the influential one’. Why? What does that mean?”

Small lines appeared on her forehead for a brief second, dissipating as fast as they came. “You’re different. You are someone that those around look up to. Of all the people in this world, you are one of the only people who help to make the decisions. You are a leader - a former king - you didn’t earn that title for nothing.”

“I got it out of following an order.”

“And yet who did they trust enough to go through with that betrayal?”

He was taken aback by that statement. She smiled.

“That’s right. I know. The plan, the trap, the outcome. Everything that has happened in this world through its entire existence I know about. There’s nothing that you can say that I don’t already know.”

Her voice dropped to a darkened tone.

“People trust you, Eret. And even if they don’t, they still take the time to listen to what you have to say. Not everyone who passes through this world is given that chance, that _respect_ even. What you have gives you power, holds you above the rest of them.”

The amber fire of her eyes turned a violent scarlet red.

“That makes you vulnerable.”

Eret felt his feet lift off the ground, the hand around his neck lifting him with ease. In desperation, he grabbed onto her wrist, not caring how pathetic or defeated he looked. Every instinct was telling him to fight back. He was a fighter. He refused to die like this. Not without a fair fight or with an honorable warrior’s death.

“You know…” he choked out with what little oxygen he was allowed. “They’ll figure out what happened right?”

“Hmm,” she answered, looking him over. She met his eyes once more, a smile cracking across her face. 

“I was sort of planning on it.”

The hand tightened around his neck, cutting off his cries as an invisible blade drove into his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOO *insert Mushu hitting the great stone dragon with a gong*
> 
> Welcome back everybody! I'm so, so sorry it took so long to post this chapter. My plan was to originally post it last Friday, but I had to deal with a few things regarding life. Anyways, here it is! I will hopefully have the next chapter by Friday or Saturday (THAT'S A SLIM MAYBE) and will post one new chapter every Friday from here on out. So please keep that in mind!
> 
> I worked really hard on this chapter and had so many roadblocks it's insane. So if you guys could please let me know what you think, that would be greatly appreciated! Feel free to leave comments, questions, or suggestions and I will happily answer them.
> 
> Thanks for waiting friends. Keep on smiling!


	3. Mercy is Simply a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to explain first:
> 
> All the chapter titles have something to do with the main character in each chapter, sometimes directly and indirectly. I did that to help you guys navigate through the chapters so you know what all happens to who and when (like the last chapter; it has the word thee, which is coming off the idea that Eret's full user tag is The_Eret). People who are involved with multiple chapters will have different titles, but will happen with other chapters in between to reduce confusion. (You know, I hope this makes sense because my brain is way to tired for this).
> 
> Secondly, I started writing this and coming up with this idea about a week before Dream and Techno teamed up to destroy L'Manburg and before all the events that happened in Tommy's stream yesterday (the 20th). So up until that point, I hadn't really seem Dream as the true, one-hundred-and-ten-percent bad guy. (CLEARLY THINGS HAVE CHANGED lol). But I would like to continue the characterization I had set up for Dream before this so Dream's character is going to be completely different then everything going on in the SMP right now. Please don't take any of Dream's character in this story and apply it to Dream's character in the SMP.
> 
> Finally- I have in this story that two certain someone's don't like each other in the slightest (and I think you can guess who I'm talking about). Again, I planned this before everything that happened involving the community house and L'Manburg, and I didn't want to have to redirect almost four whole chapter plots to fix that. So please just assume that the Blood God and the Green God don't like each other and prefer not to even mention each other's names. It'll make a few things so much easier.
> 
> Thank you all! Have fun reading this!

_“Tommy. And Wilbur. And the rest of L’Man-child-burg…”_

_“I don’t give a fuck about spirit.”_

_“We have no mercy! NO MERCY FOR YOU!”_

_“Tommy, they’re my disks.”_

_“I want to see white flags! White flags. Outside your base. By tomorrow. At dawn...”_

_“L’Manburg can be independent but L’Manburg can’t be free.”_

_“Or you are dead!”_

A pair of emerald eyes opened to the cold air, taking in the presence of the morning. The light was semi-inviting, allowing the lure of sleep to cascade off the awakened. A cold palm pressed onto an equally frozen forehead, feeling his own mind pounding with a headache.

The nightmare Dream had was the same as all the ones before; him looking at all the things he’s done wrong and just how much of a villain he has become. Every night, without fail. Has been this way for months. _Ghast_ he hated himself for it, the guilt constantly weighing on him like a wool blanket. There was nothing he could do and he knew that. All the survivalist could do was wake up and hide the shadows behind a mask, telling himself the same thing every morning.

_You can’t wake up and change the past._

The young man rolled over, feeling his body give an inaudible groan. His hand delicately rubbed his shoulder, awakening the sore tissue from yesterday. Everything ached from the tasks and responsibilities he had around the SMP, but he only noticed them when he first woke up. His high level of pain tolerance was a gift most of the days, but sometimes it was a burden, allowing himself to push a little past the line. Not that he ever felt it. He knew what real pain was, and was sure nothing would ever come close.

His fatigued eyes observed the room around him. There wasn’t much, a few chests stacked in the corner, the occasional item frame with quick-grab items on the walls, a small wooden slab next to his bed. It was cozy to say the least, the distance between the stone walls bringing the green man a sense of security and ease.

A certain someone hadn’t been wrong when they said that Dream didn’t have a house. He didn’t. Rather, he had a secret hole in the ground that no one knew about. It was secluded, away from everything and everyone, just how he wanted it.

Dream could see his shadow following him through the dim light of the single torch lighting up his room. How the hell those torches didn’t burn out, he will never know; he’s never complained about them before.

The lid to the master chest creaked against the force of being opened. It was completely cluttered, no organization to it at all. The most important items were always with him, so he didn’t really care about such a minimal detail.

The brown inventory bag he slung over his shoulder slowly became heavy with every supply, tool, or resource he decided was necessary. For a brief second, he picked up his enchanted trident, studying the shining of its handle and prongs. He would need it for this afternoon, but he could come back later. Instead, he filled his hands with multiple loaves of bread, enough for the four of them to sustain themselves for a few hours.

_Doesn’t hurt to be helpful_ , Dream thought, adjusting the wrist straps on his black gloves. While he did have his enchanted netherite armor safely in his bag, he didn’t want to wear it just yet, his green sweatshirt and oversized hood enough for him.

When he turned towards the entrance, his body stopped short. Something pulled at him and he involuntarily turned with a sigh, gaze falling to the white mask on his bedside table.

Some days he hated that mask, wanting nothing more than to break it into a thousand pieces, but he couldn’t. He had an image, an expectation to maintain. No one knew who he was behind the mask, and that was for a reason. No one could find your flaws if you didn’t give them the chance to search in the first place. There was no room for downsides, for vulnerability.

No signs of weakness.

He was strong - everyone knew that. Why else would they not look him directly in the eyes when they spoke to him. What other reason could there be for people completely avoiding him at all times, watching him with a careful gaze when he passed by. Many of those he knew called him the strongest one among them.

He had to be.

The small room he called his home was embedded in a normal hill, too far below the surface for someone to accidentally find it. A small Redstone contraption allowed him to move in and out in secret, the opening covered by a single dirt block at all times. It had honestly taken him some time to build it, and he would occasionally still find himself struggling to make it work when he was overtired or in a hurry to get it. Yet it was efficient, and that was all the leader needed.

It didn’t take long for the familiar make-shift wall of spawn to appear, and even shorter for him to be walking along the wooden slab path he assisted in building all those years ago.No matter what he did, who he was, or who he molded himself to be, there was always the appreciation of walking through the heart of the SMP. It was a break - a small gift of the day - especially when he crested the hill to see the beautiful brick building standing in the middle of a lake.

The community house. The precious building. This place felt more like home to him than anything else. Every time he walked in here he would pause to take in the happiness. He had built it back when times were simpler, with George and Sapnap and his other friends who wanted to join in. There had been no wars, no conflicts - well, there was the time George and Sap spent two days trying to light each other on fire - no complications to their lives. They were just surviving, only living.

From the wooden door, he could see two figures waiting for him at the base of the stone stairs. The one on the left - who was leaning against the stone wall - was almost glowing, his full enchanted netherite armor reflecting the morning lights. His soldier stance was clear across the distance of the pathway.

The other sat on the stone steps, hands hugging his knees in a casual manner. As compared to his comrade, there wasn’t a hint of armor on him, his blue shirt with red and white rectangle visible for all to see. The white glasses on his face were clear as day, and a small sense of excitement ran through Dream.

“Well. Guess who finally showed up.” Punz said, seeing the man approach.

“Your fault for getting here early.”

“Early? Of all the people who live here, look who’s talking.”

Dream rolled his eyes, reaching into his side bag, retrieving the loaves of bread. He held them out to the duo. “Here.”

Punz happily stood up, grabbing the bread and starting to dig into it. George reached out, pausing to give a sarcastic smirk.

“Is this some kind of peace offering?”

“I had some extra so I brought them. Shut up and eat it.”

George chuckled and happily ate the bread in his hand. On another day - or maybe if it was just the two of them - then Dream would be struggling to keep from blushing, even with the mask on.

“Wait,” Dream said, eyes scanning over the small group and the stairs behind them. “Eret’s not out here yet?”

“Mmm,” Punz answered, mouth full of food. “Nope. The two of us were about to start placing bets on which of you was going to show up first.”

Dream frowned behind the mask. “Have either of you gone in?”

George shook his head. “We were waiting for you.”

_Hmm_ , Dream thought. Eret wasn’t one to let people walk into his castle unannounced, but he also wasn’t someone to leave people in the dust when he was expecting guests.

“I know.” Punz rubbed the crumbs of bread off his hands. “It’s strange.”

“Well we’re all here now,” George answered. “Why don’t we go check?”

“I was just about to suggest that.”

Dream was honestly empressed when it came to Eret’s castle. The building was huge and between that and Eret’s towers, the green man wasn’t sure if anyone had ever used so much stone before. Well, next to Tommy and his strange, abnormal obsession with cobblestone.

“Errrrrrrrreeeet,” Punz exaggerated, being the first one to enter the throne room. “Better not be planning a betrayal again.” He laughed as George smacked his shoulder.

Dream scanned the empty room, frowning despite the curved black line on his mask. There were no signs that the man was here, nothing indicating that he was even on the premise.

“Is there somewhere else he could be?” George asked.

Punz shrugged. “I mean his storage room is right down the hall. Wouldn’t hurt to check there.”

Dream didn’t answer as he followed his friends back out of the room and to the left. While the others chatted and talked, he observed every nook of the stone walls around them, even the corners right along the floor. Eret’s notorious hobby of keeping his home spotless was showing, not helping at all. The door to the chest room was open, and all of them breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Yet the storage room - just like the main one - was just as empty as the prior.

“What the hell?” George’s accent echoed around the stone room.

“He knows we have a meeting today right?” Punz asked, starting to peer behind chests.

“I’m pretty sure. He’s never missed a meeting before right?”

“Not that I know of.”

Dream’s mind was elsewhere, something off about the room. Someone had definitely been in here, but who else had been here other than Eret himself? Everything looked fine to him. Had someone tried to steal from him? Or what… 

His eyes fell to the floor just off to his left. A curse escaped his lips.

A streak of blood, no more than a foot away from him. With the darkness of the room, it had blended in with the shadow of the stone. It was definitely recent, the occasional droplet reflecting patches of light from the room’s torches. Yet the most frightening was the blood was only on the floor, meeting up with the perfectly clean wall like the victim had been dragged through the stone. 

“What the hell?” He heard George almost whisper next to him, echoing his own thoughts.

Punz stepped out into the hallway. “Dream, it continues out here too.”

The two mimicked him, and sure enough the streak came from the wall to the storage and disappeared into the one across. It was haunting. Even Dream wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Does anyone know where this path would be leading too?” Punz asked, even though there were three of them.

Dream was trying. He could picture the layout of the castle in his mind, but his mind was struggling on creating a visual mask of the place. This hallway held only Eret’s storage room and enchanting room, the hallway ending just past the second door. There was no point in checking the enchanting room if the attacker had already been in the storage room, but where else could this be leading? Behind that wall was the throne room, soldier’s pathway, and the back structural wall. Yes, above them was his bedroom, but how could…?

A shiver ran down his spine.

If they could walk through the wall, with Eret, then what’s keeping them from being able to pass through the ceiling too.

“Dream, you don’t think…?” Punz asked, seeing where the man was looking.

He didn’t have to answer for all three of them to start running back the way they came. When they entered the throne room they took a sharp left, using the semi-hidden spiral staircase to make their way up to the second level. All three burst through the door, defenses up as they took in the dark, king-sized room… 

Where Eret was laying in bed.

All three of them took in a sharp breath.

Of all the things the king did, sleeping wasn’t one of them. He was known to get a few hours of sleep every few days and still be perfectly fine. He would stay up working hours into the night and still be up before dawn. Even Dream tried to get some sleep every night.

The man was constantly going, constantly working, constantly protecting.

None of them really knew what to do, standing in the doorway in silence. Dream was the first one to step forward, his white mask hiding the fear in his eyes and the worry on his face. Eret’s back was to him, facing towards the opposite wall while still dawned in his red uniform. He carefully shook his shoulder and when he got no response, he slowly rolled Eret over until he was laying on his back.

“OH FUCK!” George shouted.

The front of Eret’s shirt was stained in blood, coming from a still-active wound just below his ribs. A small dribble of red fell from his nose equaling one that came from the corner of his open mouth, having started when Dream moved him. And of all, his eyes were partially open, missing the secretive nature of his sunglasses.

“Shit,” Punz cursed, dropping to Eret’s side across from Dream.

George moved to the end of the bed, staring at the man in complete shock. “What the hell happened to him?”

While Punz was primarily a warrior, he was also a partially experienced medic, and Dream could see the instant that specific switch flicked on in his mind. He picked up Eret’s arm, two fingers pressing into his wrist. He closed his eyes, listening, his lips silently moving as he counted.

George was stammering. “He… he’s not…”

“No. He still has a pulse. It’s faint, but he still has one.”

Dream breathed a sigh of relief. “Is there any telling how long ago this happened?”

“Um. Based on the initial sight of the wound and the blood pool on this side, it honestly could have been within the last hour.”

“You’re jok-ing,” George hiccuped.

“Was he stabbed?”

“Looks like it. It’s clear he’s lost a lot of blood, even if we can’t tell how much.” Punz started to remove some of the bloodied cloth that had begun to stick to the open wound. “Dream, I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t know how he’s still alive.”

“We need to move him right?” Interjected George.

“No. We don’t know what all has happened and risk injuring him more if we move him. He has to stay here for now even if that means we can’t.

“Punz do you have anything?” Dream asked.

“I might. Second guess would be that either Ant, Puffy, or Ponk have something. Maybe Bad, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

“We can’t just leave him here.”

“George, we might not have a choice.”

“One of us could stay here with him! We can watch over him to make sure whoever did this doesn't come back!”

“Exactly. Punz,” Dream started. “Take George with you to find some supplies. Bring back anything you might need. I’ll stay here to make sure he’s okay. We’ll move him to somewhere different when we’ve healed him up as best we can.”

“Okay.” He stood up promptly, his left hand immediately changing to be holding onto his sword. “Let’s go, George.”

The googled man looked at Dream, who nodded in encouragement. With that, the two left the room, and Dream could hear their footsteps sprinting down the hall.

There was nothing that could make his mind quiet and calm down. The number of questions was crowding his already overwhelmed mind, giving him a blistering headache. Who in the world could have done this? Dream knew about everyone on the server - what they were capable of, what their strengths were - and no one even came close. Even… the one he didn’t like to think about. He had seen first hand what that man could do, but he had morals. He wouldn’t do this.

Something told him that he shouldn’t be in the room. Dream knew that Eret would rather have someone watching the door than grieving by his bedside. He would prefer that. Many would prefer that.

It’s a warrior’s wish of injury.

A flicker from the torch behind him reflected off of something on Eret’s shirt, none of them seeing it earlier. It was Eret’s glasses, the nightly black lenses that he always used to hide his eyes from the world. While Dream had thought the king had overreacted when he refused to take them off, he didn’t blame him.

Look at what was on his face all the time.

As graciously as he could muster, he placed the glasses over his friend's closed eyes. Eret may piss him off sometimes with his arrogance, and they did have a history regarding his title as king, but that didn’t mean the man deserved anymore disrespect to his character.

The soft footsteps of a hunter tapped the ground, stopping when Dream turned around to gaze back once more.

This was for a bigger reason. Whatever happened wasn’t by accident. Someone purposely did this to him. They had a mission that they were following through. Attacking people in this world. On his world.

The hell if he was going to let that happen.

Dream turned, the large spruce door closing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MUFFINS friends I didn't realize this chapter would be so long. Guess it's a good thing I split this one and the next one into two separate chapters. Since the next one was originally apart of this chapter, I will be posting that one in the next few days, and another one on Friday. Keep your eyes out!
> 
> How is this story going by the way? I'm not too sure how you all are liking it even with the number of hits. I'm more than happy to answer any questions if I've made anything confusing and I'm also happy to take suggestions. 
> 
> Thanks for reading friends! I hope no one is too upset or overly excited with how the last Tommy Stream went ;) Keep smiling!


	4. Some Mercy Isn't So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome Dream and BadBoyHalo friendship content <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR if that MUFFIN BADBOYHALO makes me cry ONE MORE TIME during one of his egg streams I'm going to delete my Twitch account. Why Bad, why you have to make me cry like that. I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself.

Cold ocean water ran over his pale skin as he swam, reveling in the moment of calm. Each wave that passed him took his anxiety away, and Dream wasn’t sure he had ever been so thankful for momentary peace. He wanted nothing more than to swim forever.

Despite the overwhelming events from that morning, he was still able to meet his afternoon agenda. Punz and George brought back a healing potion, plenty of gauzes and stitches, and some spare antisceptic, and together, they were all able to patch Eret up to the point of stability. Their friend didn’t move or make any signs that he was alive the entire time they worked on him, which - with what all they were doing - Dream thought was kind of a blessing on the king’s part.

Eret was now safely sleeping in one of Punz’s spare bedrooms, the healer insisting that he stay with him. George was too much in shock to go anywhere, choosing to stay as moral support for the unconscious patient. Dream had been hesitant to leave, not wanting to up and leave; he only did when Punz convinced him that he had the situation under control.

Now he was left with nothing more than the forward momentum of his trident and the aching in his arms.

As amazing as having a  _ respiration three _ helmet was, Dream’s lungs were beginning to beg for the fresh salty air above him, conspiring with his muscles to bring exhaustion over him. He made one more dive down to the kelp infested deep below, sighing in defeat when he found nothing. With a brisk turn, he aimed his trident for the beach, feeling the water run over his skin for the last time.

Dream took in a deep breath when his head broke the surface, taking in the moment, the air, and the late-afternoon sunlight. He pressed the base of his trident into the sand, using it to stand in the waves battering his calves.

A dark figure sat on the beach, waiting for him, and from where Dream stood, he could hear the man humming a soft tune as he worked. He was cleaning a substance off his glittering trident; a dark emerald, ocean blue; the blood of the drowned.

For lack of a better description, the man was terrifying. The first thing one noticed was that his skin was completely black, no contrast between that and the black apparel he always wore. There was no color to his eyes, just a vibrant intimidating white peering out from under the black hood with red highlights. Where his neck was supposed to be visible was a grey and white, checkerboard bandana, matching the grey gloves on his hands. The red from the hood continued in lines down his arms and legs, tracing the seams of his clothes.

It wasn’t necessarily the black and red aesthetic that would make shivers run down your spine, but rather the other accessories, such as the pair of red horns sticking up off the top of his head or the black devil tail laying gently on the ground next to him. A pair of black wings rested against the sand behind him, the membranes between the joints glistening in the sunlight.

“ _ I’m gonna head to the surface.” _

_ “We’ve only been here a few hours though.” _

_ “Yea, but you don’t know the pain of dealing with wet wings.” _

The man’s appearance lived up to his ethnicity: demon. It didn’t require a hard assessment to get that far. Dream remembers the countless times he had been present when someone first introduced a new person to the man, watching them shake and cower down.

Everything about his screamed fear and death… 

And everyone knew that he was the most lovable muffin in the world.

“Any more luck?”

“Nothing,” Dream answered, falling onto the sand. He ran a finger through his hair, wiping away some of the excess water. “Drowned are a dime a dozen, but Ghast, the ones with tridents aren’t.”

“You could say that again,” BadBoyHalo answered, handing him the once white towel. “I can’t tell you how many expeditions I have been on to find a trident for Skeppy. Guess I’ll just have to keep letting him borrow mine.

Dream smiled and shook his head. “That’s risky business.”

“You’re telling me. That’s like giving Sapnap torch responsibility.”

That comment made the green man laugh, even Bad joining in to chuckle at his own joke. 

Dream loved hanging out with one of his oldest friends. The man always seemed to know how to make him feel better, whether he verbally expressed his emotions or not. He also just had a vibe that followed him everywhere, one of trust, one of compassion. It was as if you could tell him that you killed a fellow person and he would still help you through it, keeping it a secret along the way. No matter what you did, no matter who you became, he was always willing to listen.

People like that were scarce these days.

“Alright,” Bad said blatantly. Dream could feel the white eyes on him. “Out with it.”

“What?”

“You have barely said a word this whole time. That never happens. AND I haven’t had to tell you language once today, so tell me what’s wrong.”

Dream sighed. And there was that, the ability to know when you’re hiding something from the world.

“Something happened this morning,” Dream started, wondering how much he should explain. He, along with Punz and George, had made the mutual decision not to share what happened with anyone. People didn’t need to be stressed out, not now, not during this time of peace.

“Uh-huh. And?”

“Okay, listen. You can’t tell anyone about this.” He turned, serious emerald eyes meeting with curious white. He sighed once more. “Eret was attacked this morning.”

Bad’s face fell. “What the muffins.”

Dream nodded. “Punz, George, and I found him this morning. It’s a good thing that we did, Punz wasn’t sure if he would’ve made it much longer.”

“What happened to him?”

“We have no idea. He was stabbed, but other than that, there’s no information.”

Bad let out a worried breath, putting his hand to his forehead as he leaned back on the sand. “Ghasts.”

“I know. Shocked us pretty good too.” He decided to leave out the part about the blood trail and the wall; no need to overload his friend with information. “Please Bad, you can’t tell anyone. The three of us made a promise not to either.”

“Okay. Muffins. That’s… do you have an idea who did it?”

_ A ghost _ , Dream thought. “No clue.”

“Well let me know if I can do anything. And please tell me when he wakes up.”

“I will.” Dream leaned back on the sand as well, placing his trident aside and resting on his elbows. “Other than that, everything’s fine.”

He could feel the second Bad’s eye looked at his face, once again thankful for having the mask. His friend could see right through it - the two have known each other for too long - so Dream tried to force the red of embarrassment off his face.

“Mm-hmm,” The elder replied. “And what’s up with you and George?”

Dream almost choked on air at the bluntness of the question. “Whaaaat?”

“I’m a muffin head, but not an idiot, Dream. I know things.”

“George and I are fine!”

“Then why isn’t he here with us?”

“Maybe he has stuff to do!”

“Or  _ maybe _ you two aren’t talking to each other, so that’s why you’re talking to me!”

Dream was offended. “You mean I have to have a reason to talk to one of my best friends?”

“There are the keywords, Dream. I’m  _ one _ of your best friends, not  _ the _ best friend. You and George are inseparable, and have been since day one!”

“So are you and Skeppy! Why isn’t he here huh?”

“You know why he’s not here!” His demon friend shouted. Dream knew he had aggravated him by bringing Skeppy into this. “He’s working on another memery troll to piss me off later!”

Dream opened his mouth but promptly closed it. He didn’t have an answer. Bad won.

“See? No stop being a  _ muffin _ and tell me what’s really wrong.”

With an audible groan, Dream laid back on the sand, placing both hands flat on his mask. What was there to explain? How exactly are you supposed to give an explanation to a situation where you don’t know the answer, nor do you know the question, to begin with?

But… wasn’t that what Bad was going for? To help him understand? Ghasts he didn’t know what was wrong with him, that’s for sure, but Bad could. Or at least have an idea. He could almost hear Bad’s voice in his head saying  _ stop stalling you muffin _ .

“I’ve been avoiding George.” Dream spoke quickly, brain dumping more than anything. “I have no idea why, but all I know is I don’t want to be around him.

Bad didn’t say a word as he listened to his babbling friend. Dream couldn’t stop himself, continuing on and on about all the ways he’s been avoiding George and the excuses he had come up with to avoid even seeing him. To himself, he knew everything he was saying was out of character, but he couldn’t explain why.

“Today was the first time I actually spoke to George in about three weeks.”

Bad’s eyes grew wide. “Three weeks?” Dream nodded. 

“Dream being that isolated from those you care about for so long isn’t healthy.”

“I know.”

The echoes from his dreams, from his past, ran through his mind. He could see each memory they went with, each emotion they triggered, each result they had.

He was such a horrible monster.

“Bad. I’ve done so much, so many wrongful things. I’ve destroyed lives. I contributed to the destruction of a nation. And why? Because I felt like it? Because I have the power to do so? What the hell is wrong with me? I’m the leader of this world and I have an image to uphold. Now I don’t know what people see me as. There’s a different image of me in everyone’s mind now and I’m never going to get out of that shadow now. Not after everything.”

Dream pushed the wetness in his eyes away, vision going blurry with tears for a brief second. His strength was breaking, the barrier was cracking. It wasn’t supposed to do that.

“George is innocent. He’s too honorable. Ghasts he didn’t even there was a war going on in the first place! I’m not sure if he knows about everything I’ve done, but he’s bound to find out sooner than later and he’ll leave all the same. No one like  _ him  _ wants to be connected to someone like  _ this _ .”

Dream lowered his head.

“I don’t deserve to be his friend.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, warmth carrying through his green sweatshirt. The devil-white eyes were filled with compassion and kindness, mixed with understanding as well. “You’re beating yourself up too much. People want to be your friend, Dream. I mean I’m here, aren’t I? I’m still talking to you. We’re still going on wild adventures together. George will too. And as for not deserving him…” Bad squeezed his shoulder. “I think that’s up for him to decide.”

“Yea. I guess that is up to him,” Dream sighed. “How should I fix this? How should I keep him from…” He waved his hand in the air, lost for words. “All that?”

Bad gave a small chuckle.

“What?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“Faith.” 

Dream scoffed. His friend had been right on that one. “Faith.”

“Yea. Faith in the universe and whatever it has planned. Faith that those around you can see and relearn what all made them like you in the first place. And honestly, faith in yourself that you won’t let everything from the past happen again.” 

This is exactly why he wanted to talk to Bad. It always amazed him how the older friend could make anyone feel so much better. He understood everything you said, he  _ actually listened _ to your problems rather than hearing them. And no matter what you told him, the demon would never judge you.  _ Never _ .

Dream slowly shook his head.“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be so kind. Have so much positivity. Always see the good side of a situation. How are you so amazing all the time?”

A small tint of red appeared on his black cheeks. “I’m not. I’ve done plenty of wrongful things.”

“BadBoyHalo, you are the most wholesome and honorable person I know, and that’s true no matter what happens.” Dream even chuckled. “It’s like someone could stab you and you would thank them while offering a place to sleep.”

Bad went quiet, his forehead creased. “I guess that’s just how I am. I don’t know, I’ve never really noticed before.”

“Well, it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s the thing I like most about you. And I’m pretty sure a lot of other people can too.”

“Aww. Thank you.” A large smile spread across his face. He spread out his arms, arching his back and stretching out his wings. Without warning, they folded in on themselves, disappearing into the black and red fabric of Bad’s cape. The act of his friend putting away his wings always impressed the hell out of Dream. His friend had certainly been given a blessing in the physical attributes department.

What would they do without him? How would anyone in the world be able to go on without their loveable muffiny friend right there when they need it? He was the one person that anyone could one hundred percent rely on. The demon who could make you smile with a simple compliment or hug. One who could easily protect himself if need be, and fight to make sure everyone makes it out unharmed.

Damn, he was amazing.

A semi-evil smile came over Dream’s face.

“Hey. Thanks for helping me Bad.” The muffin smiled. “It really fucking helped.”

White eyes filled with fury. “LANGUAGE.”

Dream doubled over with laughter, ducking as his friend threw the sand-covered rag at his face. He could see that Bad was trying to keep from laughing himself, his face turning red and making Dream laugh even harder.

“Well CLEARLY you’re better now so what do you say we go?”

“Yea it is getting late.” He reached out his hand, helping Bad off the ground.

Bad smiled at him in thanks, grabbing his trident from the ground and beginning the direction of the forest behind them.

An idea came to the one in the mask.

“Are you sure you want to walk? Or do you want to get back the fun way?” Dream turned his trident, the enchantment reflecting light onto Bad’s black face. His white eyes narrowed.

“Hmmm. Sure.” Black wings sent dust in different directions as they unfurled, the demon leaping into the air. “RACE YOU,” he shouted, throwing his trident and flying away in one fluid motion.

Dream shook his head and cursed. A flight race against a demon with wings; has never ended well for him. Yet he launched himself into the air anyways, chasing the red and black blur to the quartz white mansion in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMMM, I wonder who my favorite member of the SMP is, who I haven't spent countless hours watching his streams or scrolling through every bit of fanart revolving around him in existence. HMMMM I HAVE NO MUFFINY IDEA...
> 
> I'm curious about what you all think of this story. I know it's not the traditional kind of SMP writing that I see on here, and it's definitely straying away from the SMP lore itself, but what do you guys think? Should I write more stories like this? I'll definitely finish this one, I promise you that.
> 
> This is just some basic wholesome content that isn't super significant to the story, but it sets up character development and plot for later chapters. And please ignore that really cringeworthy chapter that's totally not foreshadowing.
> 
> Thanks for reading friends, keep on smiling, and have a great week!
> 
> I FORGOT TO TELL YOU I HAVE TWITTER NOW! :D I let you guys know of updates, ask for story suggestions, and more. I'm not normally one to ask for this, but please go follow! It would mean the world @Cloudyerd11


	5. Mercy is Sometimes Black and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :)

Sometimes there are brief moments in life in which one could simply take the chance to breathe. Everyone goes throughout their days too busy to take their breathing into consideration. It’s not something a busy person would particularly focus on, the act of breathing air in and breathing it back out. So taking the time to enjoy the simple art came as a relaxing matter, something to appreciate in a brief moment of time.

Then there were people like Ranboo- who longed for the day when he didn’t have to focus on keeping the air flowing into his body.

The Enderman hybrid walked along the wooden pier, the morning sun shining across the black side of his face. The water splashed gracefully against the wooden posts below him as if the blue liquid wasn’t covering up a ground’s scar and traces of TNT powder. Someone had planted dozens of flowers on one of the few natural grass blocks next to the path. When had those been planted, Ranboo had no idea, but he did acknowledge their peaceful beauty before a frown deepened on his face.

Peace. How could anyone be peaceful during this time, with everything that had happened? Ghasts, how could  _ he _ be at peace? Look what he had woken up to? A country that had just been blown apart a few days before his arrival. An entire world divided and at each other’s throats. And on top of that, he could barely remember half of the things he did if it weren’t for the leather memory book he held so close to his chest.

His book was the one thing he was willing to die for. Not only was it a part of him - an honorable weight keeping him grounded to his home - but it was also the one thing that could possibly re-destroy the world that has started enjoying this era of peace.

The independent country was specifically calm this morning. Given, Ranboo was one of the few citizens who were actually awake - not just in L’Manberg but the entire SMP - but that didn’t take away from the fact that the easement of the air made him both relax and tense up more. Nothing was ever calm here. Nothing was ever at peace. War was a constant sword hanging over all their heads and ambush was always on the horizon.

The enderman shook his head, the crown securely on his head.  _ Breathe. In some. Out some. Don’t think about something not in your control. Focus on what you’re doing. It’s more important right now. _

Despite being the president, Tubbo didn’t actually have a house here, making it impossible to find him. He appeared to just roam through L’Manburg, not staying in one place for too long. Then again, he was their leader. One almost never had time to rest when there was so much to be done. There was the option of asking Quackity - Tubbo was basically inseparable from his vice president - but that would require coming into contact with him in the first place.

Ranboo had the easy feeling that the Latino man didn’t like him.

He turned left, beginning up the stairs to a certain old man’s house, Ranboo involuntarily shivering at the sight. That night he was roped into helping the Butcher Army with hunting down a certain villain to the state was one of the rare moments he could actually remember, always haunting him when the slightest remembrance arose. Such as climbing the stairs to the father’s house of said member.

Tubbo seemed to be hanging around Philza’s house more these days, whether trying to make amends for the house arrest issue or helping the avian be as comfortable as possible in L’Manberg. It was a good place to start in the search for the president, knowing that Philza was almost never a sleeping-in kind of person.

That didn’t prevent him from quietly knocking on the door out of courtesy.

Ranboo didn’t know if he was relieved. or anxious at the fact that no one answered the door, but it was quickly decided for him when he opened the door on his own.

Tubbo was there. 

He wasn’t alone.

A figure stood in the middle of the wooden house, towering over the young president. Tubbo was fighting them, small hands struggling to keep a hold on the one wrapped around his neck. His feet were kicking furiously, unable to touch the ground.

Ranboo almost dropped the book in his hands, staring at the unknown attacker.

They almost looked like  _ him _ .

Their skin was pale - not like the white half of his face - but definitely close. They were dawned in all black, but they didn’t look - solid. Their edges were blurry like they weren’t completely there. They were though, standing there, the young president struggling in their grasp.

Ranboo’s anxiety tried to scream for him, but he couldn’t, frozen in place as an evil gaze turned to him.

Their eyes - they were terrifying. They were… they weren’t a color, not a singular one at least. Fire was all he could describe them as, constantly flickering, shifting, and changing. And Ranboo swore that their irises had briefly become a bright pink when he blinked.

Above all, they certainly weren’t human.

The sight made his own red eye twitch and tingle.

“Hmm,” it said, bringing Ranboo back. “Well, aren’t you different?”

Tubbo was slowly lowered to the ground, forced onto his knees. He took in a deep breath as the hand around his neck disappeared, Tubbo’s hand hovering over his chest as he coughed. Ranboo could see so many emotions on his young face when their eyes met: relief someone was there; anxiety over the situation; fear that there was someone else like him in danger.

His eyes flicked back up to the figure slowly approaching him.

“Wh- what ar-re you…? W-who? Why…?”

“Breathe young enderman. I’m not here for you.”

“But wh… what are you doing… what do you want w-with Tubbo?”

“Nothing of importance.”

They stopped moving when Ranboo took a step backward. Their head tilted to the side, eyes glowing a brief orange-gold.

“What’s on your mind Ranboo?”

He almost screeched in Enderman. His hands were beginning to tingle from the lack of blood flowing through his veins under the spots where the book pressed in. There was nothing else to take his panic and fear out on. “HOW D-DO YOU KNOW M-MY NAME?”

Their face was painfully blank. “That’s not of importance either.”

For a brief moment, red eyes flickered down, landing on the book in Ranboo’s arms. She squinted, gaze returning to him. A pale hand slowly reached out to him.

“May I?”

Ranboo wanted to die.

“No,” the accented voice of the President said, starting towards them.

The air shifted drastically, Ranboo unable to do anything as the attacker’s eyes flashed an unbearable orange. Tubbo let out a screech, black vines emerging from the floor around him. Ranboo could see just how much pain the vines were causing to the president, some even digging thorns into his skin. They snaked their way up to his shoulders, slowly spreading around his neck that had held its brief moment of freedom.

“Ranb-” Tubbo’s words were cut off when a vine covered his mouth. He made some gagging sounds, and it took Ranboo everything in his power to keep the images of the potential future at bay.

The attacker hadn’t even batted an eye.

“Let me see the book Ranboo.”

Tubbo’s eyes were pleading with him, though he wasn’t sure to give the book or run with it. He made up his mind that it was the former, holding out the book with two hesitant hands.

Ranboo felt lost, not sure what to do as they looked through his book, his precious memories. She appeared slightly amused, someone looking through a book they hadn’t read since they were a child. For a brief moment, she paused looking up at him and squinting. She went back to her search, promptly closing the book and handing it out in return.

It was in his hand faster than the amount of time it took for it to leave him. The pages fluttered underneath his eyes, the panicked Enderman scrolling through every single leaf. All the pages were there. So were all the words. Everything was fine.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t interested in your book. I can promise everything is still there.”

Ranboo closed the book, the initial anxiety fading. Frustration and fluster was beginning to seep in. “But… then… why ask for it in the first place? What did you need it for? What do you want from Tubbo? What do you want from m-”

“Because I can’t trust you with your own memory, can I?”

Ranboo gasped, and Tubbo let out a muffled squeak similar to his.

“You know?”

“I do. Words get around, young enderman.” The tone in her voice changed, becoming more humorous and entertained like his friend wasn’t being restrained by magic vines a few feet away. “I’ll have to admit, information regarding you is a little grey. I know as much as your name and what all I’ve overheard, but that’s really it. And strangely - it’s only with you. Maybe because of the fact you joined after me.”

“You… you’ve been living here this whole time?” He took a step back.

“No. I only have a few days on you. I joined during the destruction of-” She motioned for the walls around them and the country beyond. “This country actually.”

Ranboo looked at Tubbo with confusion. He had read every book regarding L’manberg’s history, even those that were written by Ghostbur recently. Never once had there been the mention of someone joining  _ during _ the war. Neither Dream nor any of the admins would have planned for something like that to happen.

She chuckled. “That’s because I was born in the midst of chaos, undetected and unknown.” Ranboo’s eyes went wide at the realization that she could read his mind. “I am not human, my hybrid friend. I am an entity, a deity of the immortal plane. I can do things beyond anything you could ever imagine.”

The terrified enderman felt the wall behind him, leaving nowhere else to go. She was still approaching, getting closer, getting further into his mind. Ranboo held his breath when her nose came within a few inches of his own.

“Does that make sense, Ranboo?” She whispered.

“Wh-why?” His voice was equally quiet. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because.” Her eyes flashed vibrant pink. “Why would they believe someone who won’t be able to remember anyway?”

He hadn’t been aware of the pale hand reaching towards his face until cold fingers touched his forehead. The room went dark, his legs giving out beneath him.

Ranboo groaned. His entire body felt like he had been in a war wincing from the pain that came from his head slamming into the wood floor.

The ground. How had he gotten on the ground? When was he standing up? Where exactly was he? Who was that across from him, the collapsed figure he couldn’t see through his blurry vision? They were wearing an official-looking outfit - though he could’ve sworn something had been covering the man earlier - almost like a royal or a high government offic…

Ranboo propped himself up on his white elbow, staring in shock. The President.  _ Tubbo _ . The  _ kid _ . His forest green eyes were wide open, a glossy, glazed appearance covering them. He was looking at him, but not at the same time. It sent shivers down Ranboo’s half-enderman spine. He was too still, too unresponsive.

His arm flinched. It moved. The observer almost smiled in relief. Tubbo’s still alive. His leg moved too, so did his hand. He’s…

Ranboo felt all the oxygen in the room leave at once.

Tubbo was convulsing.

_ No _ . Ranboo crawled over, rolling the teen onto his back. A little train of blood trickled from his nose.  _ No no no no no no _ .

What happened to him? Who did this? Did… did he do this? He had been here when it happened, had he been involved with it? Why didn’t he stop this from happening? Why couldn’t he remember anything? Had he let it happen? What did he do?  _ What did he do? _

He cradled Tubbo’s head in his arm, tears splashing on his cheek. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t keep from rocking back and forth on his knees.

_ What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I…? _

Tubbo. Poor Tubbo. He didn’t deserve this. Yes, he was the President, but he was a child nonetheless. He was only seventeen, too young to be taken into the void his predecessor had. There was too much life in him, too much potential, too much responsibility.

He had to get help - had that been what he was doing when everything went dark? - had to get someone who could save Tubbo. But he couldn’t just leave him here. Right? Not like he could, to begin with, all he could do was cry in defeat. Could someone be nearby? By some miracle was that possible?... 

There was the faintest movement that Ranboo could see just above the window sill. They were down by the water platform, walking away from them. Yet someone was here, someone could help.

“Wait. Wait! Hey! PLEASE! COME BACK! PLEASE HELP!”

His cries were on the verge of becoming warbled enderman screams. He was begging with everything he had. He could feel the quaking boy’s unstable life drifting away.

There were three. Oh thank Ghasts, there were three people to help him. He couldn’t remember their names. His mind was too overwhelmed, but he knew they would help. They were living like him, they had to help.

One of them instantly came over to Tubbo’s head, his pale hands with long black sleeves gently taking him from Ranboo. He moved to give the white shirt man with fire decal space, grasping onto Tubbo’s shivering cold hand instead. Black hair covered Tubbo’s face, the man leaning down to listen for breathing and a heartbeat.

Ranboo detected movement out of the corner of his red eye, a blue shirt man with black hair standing next to Tubbo’s feet. Ranboo did recognize this one, but out of slight fear. He had been actively trying to avoid him earlier before all of this happened. Why? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he had been.

The final figure was hesitant to move, observing for the longest time before kneeling across from Ranboo. There was no emotion on his face, but then again - there couldn’t be. Not with the plane white smiley face staring back at them from under a green hood. This one was dawned in sparkling netherite armor, ready for a fight.

Something about the man made Ranboo’s heart drop, but - again - he wasn’t sure why.

The flash of a sword to his right panicked him more, but it was only the bandana clad boy resting an iron sword below Tubbo’s nose. Everyone except Ranboo breathed a collective sigh of relief when fog briefly graced the metal.

“Faint breathing but it’s better than nothing.”

Ranboo’s eye dropped an involuntary tear of relief. He could feel the gaze of the Vice President bearing into the side of his head. “What the fuck happened Ranboo?”

The enderman flinched. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I was looking for him, but the world went dark, and I just found him like this. I’m so scared I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. Please help him. He’s too young to go. We need him. I need him. This country needs him. I don’t know what to do. I’m so so sorry…”

A hand rested on his shoulder, bringing him back to earth. One red and one green eye looked into the two black dots of a plain white mask. Ranboo could swear he could see a tint of emerald behind them, but that didn’t matter.

“Ranboo,” the masked man said, his voice a calming and light snowstorm. “It’s not your fault.”

Something in the man’s words went straight to his core but in a graceful and meaningful kind of way. He stared at the mask for much longer than necessary, nodding his head upon realizing what he was doing. He turned his attention back to the boy checking Tubbo’s head or injuries, unable to look away from the glazed open eyes of someone he admired so much. He clutched the boy’s hand tighter in his own, holding it close to his chest in worried anticipation.

He didn’t do this. He couldn’t have, not to someone who had semi-taken him in and gave him a home. Why else would he have stayed after finding him? Why else would he have called out for help? There was no way in the world he could have done this.

… 

_ Then why didn’t he believe it? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS! I am so sorry this is two days late. I've been having a week, to say the least. 
> 
> Okay so I kind of made Quackity look like an asshole in this, I'm sorry. I promise that's not how I see him. I'm basing his character, plotline in this off the interaction with Technoblade right after the execution attempt AND when he, tubbo, and the other L'Manbergians were planning on killing Dream at the January festival. THIS IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW FOR LATER CHAPTERS.
> 
> I don't know why I feel the need to say this, but there is nothing going on between Tubbo and Ranboo here. It's more like a mentor - trainee kind of relationship rather than father-son or lover-lovee so please don't take it that way.
> 
> Please let me know what you all think! I'm already working on the next chapter so I'll have that done by Friday for you. Feel free to leave comments, questions, or suggestions and I will happily read them. Thanks fancy people! Keep smiling :)


	6. Dreaming is Your Only Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHHH MY GHASTS IT'S SO LONG I'M SO SORRY FRIENDS I FEEL LIKE A HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING.

_ “What do you think gives you power?” _

_ “I care more about your disks than you do Tommy.” _

_ “Is it your crown?” _

_ “Tommy, the traitor was Wilbur.” _

_ “Is it the fact that you’re king?” _

_ “If respect is the only thing keeping you from a knife in the back.” _

_ “Tommy I’ll have to step in.” _

_ “Then respect is nothing, right?” _

Dream awoke with a jolt, shuddering breaths racking his body. His heart beating in his ears was deafening, the headache pulsing to the same rhythm. And he was unreasonably cold, tipping off his curiosity.

He was used to the repeating voices by now, so why was he panicking? What was different? 

No. He had to focus on the real question here: why the hell were these dreams happening? He knew what he had done and who he had done it to, but why were they all coming back to him? Hadn’t he already been taught a lesson up until this point? Why was his own brain trying to torture him?  _ Why wouldn’t they just let him be? _

_ “Faith in yourself that you won’t let everything happen again… _ ” Bad’s voice trailed off in his mind.

Right. He was still in control. It didn’t matter when the dreams came back, it was up to him whether or not to react to them. Right?

Dream sighed, rolling over and starting the effort of getting himself up off the stone floor. The leader was halfway up when he froze, realizing.

Why- where was his bed? He had collapsed in his bed the second he got home. What?… this wasn’t even his room! Just a stone space with dark lighting. He was defenseless… no he had armor on.  _ His _ armor, the set he had worn to hang out with Bad. His mask was gone. Was he vulnerable? What the - what the fuck?

Dream drew his sword, turning his panic into seriousness. The weight of the sword in his hand slightly filled him with ease, but not enough. Whoever it was that had brought him here was  _ fucked _ .

Yet he was all alone, no one else in the room around him. There were no openings, just stone bricks reaching towards a similar ceiling. He had a chilling feeling of deja vu, but it was quickly diminished when his eyes trailed to the bit of blood on the floor beneath his feet.

There was a stream of red, still and unmoving, leading across the floor and Dream found himself unable to look away. It called to him, his armored feet slowly moving across the floor. Emerald eyes followed it to a door in the wall -  _ had that even been there before? _ \- the streak disappearing beneath the wood frame.

The door creaked open behind the pressure of Dream’s hand, the sound adding to the anxiety of the room. It was a bedroom, the one of a king.  _ Their king _ . Dream knew in an instant. He had been standing in it this morning, unable to move just like now. The bed itself was empty - red sheets not even creased in the slightest - but the room certainly wasn’t. George was once more at the end of the bed, Punz still kneeling opposite of where Dream stood. Neither of them was moving, in their own little world. If they had heard him come in, they didn’t react or give any signs. 

Dream felt his own shoulders drop in relief.

This wasn’t real. It was a dream. He could clearly see that now. There was no strange room, no ghost trying to kill him, nothing. He was simply reliving the events that happened that day.

_ Great _ , he sighed, sheathing his sword.  _ Another haunting to add to the mix _ .

“Tragic isn’t it?” An icy voice said. “A shame that it came to that.”

A figure stood against the wall, hidden perfectly in the shadows between two torches. Their arms were crossed and leg was bent, heel resting on the stone behind them. A pair of red eyes were the only form of color on their face, but it didn’t faze him; look at the brightness of his own eyes. Overall, they were casual, not phased by the situation at all.

Dream nodded, glancing back at the empty bed. They were stuck in this dream too, just like his two unresponsive friends. He had no idea who they were or who they were supposed to be, but his dreams stopped making sense a long time ago. “Yea, it really is.”

_ I can deal with this in the morning _ , Dream spoke to himself, beginning back towards the door he had left through this morning.

“I understand why you made that one king now.” The footsteps came to a halt. “He’s strong and serious, but witty when he wants to be.”

Dream’s hand instinctively landed on his sword as he turned. “How do you know Eret?”

“We met briefly.”

They had an accent, almost like Eret’s but not quite, and honestly Dream couldn’t place it. It was feminine for sure, but a low alto range. It was chilling, fitting to the tone of the room. Where they the one making it like that?

Emerald eyes squinted. “It was you wasn’t it.”

“Ahh. A fast one I see.” Both of them were surprisingly calm, even as Dream moved to be facing them straight on, placing himself between the figure and his morning friends. “What gave it away?”

“There were only three of us there when we found him. That’s why they’re here.” Dream nodded towards his friends still unmoving behind him. “That’s why no one else was here. So you standing there means you have something to do with this.”

Through the shadow, he could see her turn her head. “You’re smarter than I was anticipating.”

“Is that supposed to make me proud?”

“No. I’m merely thinking out loud. Just like you.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Your thoughts say otherwise.”

Dream’s brow creased. “How are you doing that?”

She put her hands up. “ _ I _ am not doing anything, that’s all on you.”

“N-”

“You’re asleep Dream. You’re  _ dreaming _ . Both of us are in your head, we can hear everything you’re thinking of. If you were awake it would be a different story. So tell me…” She leaned forward off the wall. “What do you think I have to do with this?”

He was silent for a long time, trying to work his mind through the situation without thinking out loud. It was impossible, he knew, especially when she would tilt her head a different direction, her gaze never leaving him.

_ Eret. ‘You’re asleep dream’. Through the wall. ‘What the hell happened to him’. Blood through the wall. His bedroom. If I’m asleep then how are you here? _

His eyes flicked back up to her. “You’re the one that attacked him, aren’t you?”

This time her head dipped forward, eyes piercing him. “Bingo.”

Dream gripped his sword harder, standing up straight.

“Who are you?”

The dark-out figure moved, standing up from the wall. She stepped into the light and Dream could finally see who he was dealing with. She was tall like him and arguably just as strong, holding herself as such. Pale skin countered what she wore, covered shoulders down with the color black. Her chin-length hair was a tint lighter, almost a dirtied grey than black. Her contrasting eyes were the most striking, shifting constantly to colors that he wasn’t previously able to see.

Blasting pinkish-red and shimmering emerald green sparkled through the space between them.

“Hello Dream.”

“Hello, murderer.”

“Hmm, but he’s not dead is he.”

“He’s fairly close.”

“Well. Can’t argue there.”

“What’s your name?”

Her head turned slightly to the side. “I don’t have one. There hasn’t really been a need for one.”

“Nightmare?”

“Ha. Ghast’s no. Having one person with the ridiculous name of  _ Dream _ is enough.”

He glared at her.

She smiled.

“Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are, right? What goes through your head every night? Memories of everything you’ve done? Seems to…”

“No.” Dream interrupted, gaining a shocked glare. “Answer my question first.”

Yellow eyes stared into him, shoulders straightened, and a head tilted slightly to the side. There was a brief smile too.

“If you must know, I am an entity, born into a world that needs my help. We’re always created into the exact moment a world needs our help, our encouragement. Every entity is good and pure and wholesome, longing to bring good to a world, but I’m different. I help a world maintain what it has been through, keep its chaos going, keep it destroyed.” Her gaze grew cold. “You brought me into this world the second that coward of a human decided to blow up the nation he once fought so hard for. For a brief moment there was the chance that I could be good, the beautiful white divinity my nature begs me to be. Yet I looked out into a world that was caving in on itself, friends murdering friends and creating monsters to destroy their own.

“The peace your world claims to have at the moment is a lie, a rug for you to swipe all your lying problems under. I’m here to make sure that cover comes off.”

“But we didn’t do anything to you. In no way, shape, or form have we harmed you. Why do all this yourself? Why not let us destroy each other eventually?”

She chuckled. “While we may not be mortal, we are still living. We must gain our energy from somewhere.”

“And you’re going to do that by killing people?”

“Not quite. It’s not the act of killing or attacking people that gives me satisfaction, but rather the chaos that ensues afterward. The panic. The  _ fear _ . And I’m clearly off to a good start, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need to get stronger.”

A pale finger touched under his chin, lifting his head higher despite the two of them being at the same height. Her eyes were glowing a gold red. “I have a plan, one that I have worked on and perfected for months. I have waited long enough, Dream. It’s time.”

“And how exactly are you planning on keeping that going?”

She sighed, dropping her hand down. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that for you. Not yet at least. Maybe during our next visit.”

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, one back was turned to the other, her black hair swaying as she walked to the door.

The room filled with a slight chuckle, this time coming from the leader being left behind. She spun back around to him, and there was no response other than a tilting of her head and a curious expression clouding her face.

“ _ Zaniyah _ .” Dream raised his emerald gaze to her orange. “The name for someone who wants to watch the world burn.”

A smile broke across her face. “Fitting.”

“You may be immortal and far above me, but this is my world and my home.” He drew his sword, holding it out behind him in defense. “And under no circumstances am I going to let that happen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Bold words for someone who doesn’t know what they’re dealing with.”

“A proud statement for someone who has never been on both sides of the equation.”

Her face fell to seriousness as she turned, opening the door to leave, only she paused, letting the cold air of the other room enter.

“Just a little word of advice for you.” She turned her head only, casting a pink look over her shoulder. “You might want to check on that little president of yours.”

His heart fell and shivers ran down his spine, rushing his sword forward as the wood door slammed shut.

Dream’s eyes opened, the torches on the wall closest to his bed flickering from the rush of air as he sat up. He almost smiled with how thankful he was to be awake, shaking and sweating. He was awake. He was alive. He wasn’t dreaming anymore.

_ Tubbo… _

He was awake. He was alive. He wasn’t dreaming anymore.

It was going to get Tubbo.

The man was a blur as he ran around his room, leaving chests open as he desperately grabbed everything he would need for a fight. Not even his fully enchanted, netherite armor could slow his adrenaline down as he crawled out 

The sun had already risen, the morning shadows disappearing as he ran down through the woods and eventually down the wooden slab path. His footsteps were loud to the ears of someone who had spent his whole life trying to be as quiet as possible, but for once he didn’t care. There was one thing to do and one thing only.

He breached the top of the hill next to Tommy’s old house, not expecting to almost run into someone as he turned the corner on the path towards L’Manberg. Warm hands grabbed his shoulders, steadying him like he had done hundreds of times before. The warrior in the white shirt with long black sleeves underneath and fire decal on the front was always there to catch him, an unspoken and coincidental rule between them.

Dream smiled.

Help.

“Sapnap…”

“Hey man. Don’t run so fast. I was just at Punz’s house. I heard about Eret. You alright?”

“Yea. I’m fine.” His gaze scanned the pathway beyond them before turning to meet eyes with his long time best friend. “You busy?”

“No. What’s up? Why are you acting weird?”

“I need you to help me find Tubbo.”

Sapnap’s eyes went wide, hand immediately settling on the handle of his netherite sword. “Dream. I didn’t know you wanted to do it so soon.”

The leader stopped, a dumbfounded look on his face as he stared at his friend. “What?”

“I knew you wanted to go after L’manberg, but I figured you’d want to plan some huge explosion or something. I’m not one to stand down from a fight - believe me - but I think we should be more prepared than this.”

Dream shook his head, hand planting on his mask. “No, you dumbass. I’m not planning on killing Tubbo and attacking L’manberg. We need to find him to keep him safe.”

Sapnap was confused with the sudden change in ideals. “Why though?”

“I think someone might be trying to do to him what they did to Eret.”

That was all he had to say for the warrior to understand. The two immediately began down the path to the independent nation, the sun’s rays lighting up the wooden path beneath them. They slowed as a figure walked from the other direction, recognizing him instantly from his blue t-shirt and black hair.

Black eyes widened at the sight of the duo. The man instantly stood at attention, despite not having any armor or weapons present.

“Quackity we need your help.”

“Why?” His tone was dry.

“We need to find Tubbo-”

“No.” The Latino man didn’t even hesitate. “No. Fuck you.”

Dream knew where the Vice President was coming from. He also knew how bad the situation looked; two high-order SMP members dressed in full armor - who had previously been against the nation you were standing in - suddenly approaching you demanding to know where your teenage President was. He sighed. They didn’t have time for this.

Tubbo might not have time for this.

“Quackity, please.” Sapanp pleaded.

“Why? Why should I? What benefit does it give me? Why?”

“Because he’s going to die Quackity,” Dream shouted. “We need to find him now!”

Even Sapnap’s eyes widened at the intensity of his friend’s voice. Quackity took a step back, trying to keep his breathing under control.

“Fine. Come on.” He turned on his heel, leading the two back to where he had just come from. They checked every spot, even those that weren’t completely necessary. It wasn’t until the trio reached the center of the country that they began to ask questions.

“Doesn’t the  _ president _ of L’manberg have a  _ house _ ?”

“No. He has a place to store stuff, but he doesn’t have an actual house.” Quackity stepped down to the lowest platform of the docks, starting towards the makeshift market. “Don’t ask me, he prefers it that way.”

Dream couldn’t help but look over the edge, seeing the stone cavern below them that at one point hadn’t been visible. “Is there a place, in particular, where he hangs out…”

A shout pierced the air, all of their heads turning.

“Wait. Wait! Hey! PLEASE! COME BACK! PLEASE HELP!”

“Is that Ranboo?” Sapnap questioned.

Neither Quackity nor Dream answered, already sprinting towards the first house - Philza’s house - the one they had passed moments before. Dream tries not to shiver at the sound of crying and desperate pleading.

Sapnap is the one to burst the door down, sword at the ready.

In the center of the room kneeled a teenage Enderman hybrid, rocking back and forth on his knees with his head down. He cradled the equally young President in his arms, one who was unnaturally still. He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, not receptive to anything happening around him. And if you watched him for long enough, you could see him shaking violently and out of control.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Sapnap cursed under his breath, moving to Tubbo’s head and helping Ranboo to place him fully on the ground. Dream watched his friend’s survival, warrior instincts kick in, checking for a pulse and for breathing. He knew Sapnap could handle the situation, even as the man drew his sword to double-check that Tubbo was still breathing.

Dream couldn’t move, nor could he react. This was nothing like what happened to Eret. Tubbo appeared both alive and gone at the same time, quivering in the Enderman’s arms. The king had been on the brink of death but was thankfully completely unconscious, not having to deal with the pain. One could see the pain Tubbo was in from how abnormally contorted his face was. They didn’t know what was causing him pain, and Dream was praying they healed him soon.

“Faint breathing but it’s better than nothing.” Sap’s voice rang through the air.

_ Thank Ghasts. We’re not completely too late. _

“What the fuck happened Ranboo?”

Dream’s head snapped to the man who had moved to be at the teen’s feet. If he could punch him, he would. Quackity was angry, which was understandable, but walking in and immediately taking it out on the one who called out to them for help in the first place was wrong on so many levels. There was nothing Quackity could say to reason that.

The enderman began stammering, finding any reason he could to explain. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I was looking for him, but the world went dark, and I just found him like this. I’m so scared I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. Please help him. He’s too young to go. We need him. I need him. This country needs him. I don’t know what to do. I’m so so sorry…”

Dream interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The look he was given - the one of initial fear as he stared into the black eyes of his mask - made his heartache. Ranboo had memory problems, everyone knew that, but Dream was apparently the only one in the room remembering that at this moment. 

“Ranboo.” The sheer panic in the eyes of this one enderman was more than he had ever experienced in his life. “It’s not your fault.”

He knew Ranboo didn’t believe him, but it did seem to help ease him a bit. That’s what Dream was going for and it worked. He could focus on what was actually happening before him.

Tubbo had been attacked.

The second person in less than twenty-four hours.

The ghost -  _ Zaniyah _ \- it was clear she wasn’t being random. She had gone after Eret and - now - Tubbo for a reason. Both were leaders. Both were powerful. If she wanted power, then it made sense that she would go after those who had it.

They needed to stop this now, needed to cut the vine at the source before she got the idea to go after anyone else. There was no telling what she had planned or what she had already done.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t start somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pronounced Zah-Nieye-Ah. I don't know if this name actually has any correspondence or history, so please don't go quoting me!
> 
> So I'm genuinely curious. What do you all think of this story? I can clearly tell some of you are hooked with how many hits and subs it has gotten so far, but other than that I have no idea. Do you guys like it? Is it interesting enough? Are there things I can or need to change? Please let me know you guys.
> 
> Thanks and keep smiling, friends. I have a feeling this is going to be a good week :)


	7. Mounted on Wings of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who it is :)

In Philza’s opinion, there was nothing like the feeling of the cold wind rushing through the feathers of his wings.

Nothing could compare; how his wings felt full when he was lifted into the sky; the quick surge of air when he dove to the ground; and the uneven yet balanced feeling when he turned. It was a sort of euphoria for him, no matter how many times he used his wings in the thirty-plus years he was alive.

That being said, there were some situations that couldn’t be eased by the act of flying.

This was one of those cases.

The sun’s rays had barely made it through the windows of his home when he arrived from his annual hunting trip this morning. He had spent the past few days experience gathering, not at the spider spawner in Punz’s basement, but rather at the guardian farm he had helped build in the middle of the ocean. Long days doing nothing but relaxing between occasionally driving your sword through a handful of guardians at a time was one of the only things to help the avian escape from the chaos his life had become.

So arriving at his home and instantly seeing a note in the middle of his main room requesting his presence immediately certainly sent shivers through his wings.

_ Your presence has been requested for an important meeting. Please arrive at dawn. _ Followed by a pair of coordinates he recognized as the main bridge connecting L’Manburg to the rest of the SMP.

It wasn’t a long trip, thankfully- his house was practically right next to the path. He could’ve walked, but what better way to establish your presence than landing with a pair of dark grey feathered wings spread wide?

Phil wasn’t met with a group of people, but rather a wooden door placed in the dirt wall.  _ Well that’s definitely new _ , he couldn’t help but think, folding his wings in behind him.

He rapped on the door, half expecting it to not open, but the wood moved before his knuckles could finish the last knock. A non-surprised and expectant soldier opened the door, his enchanted netherite armor glowing in the shade.

“Good morning, Philza,” Sapnap said, holding the door open for him.

Philza admired the young man. Here in front of him was arguably their world’s best fighter - one who had taken the lives of so many - yet he was still kind and full of honor, taking the time to greet the elder whom he had fought against.

“Sapnap. Punz.” Philza nodded, acknowledging the other man’s presence as he entered. The blond-haired man responded with a head nod, remaining with his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

The room was definitely new, the smell of new dirt still lingering in the air. The far wall had nothing more than an opening to act as a window and light source, the morning breeze flowing through without the restrictions of glass. There were no chairs or furniture beyond a slab wood table in the middle of the room, covered with parchments and illuminated with a single lantern.

Across from him, leaning with his palms against the edge of the table, a man with his face covered by a forest green hood looked up at him from behind his white circular mask.

The avian’s relationship with the leader was beyond complicated. On one wing, the man hated the country his sons had spent so long fighting for, wanting nothing more than to watch it burn before his masked eyes. He was the one who had instigated this in the first place was he not? Wasn’t he the one who had placed the TNT in his son’s hand? Hadn’t he banished and manipulated his youngest?

But… It was Dream.

Here was the man with a plan for his plans, who had a reason for everything he did. This was the one who saved his blood-lusting son from execution, who helped him gain a totem of undying and the materials he would need to get out of L'Manburg safely. He was the one who convinced Tubbo to let him off house arrest, wasn’t he? The one who granted him immunity in both the SMP and L'Manburg. And while he was a pain in the arse, wasn’t he the only one who visited Tommy, even if it was for selfish reasons? He had actually talked to the exiled teen, giving him an outlet for all the emotions he had been holding in. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t.

Again, it was complicated.

“Philza,” Dream acknowledged.

“Dream. Interesting that you called me.”

“I know. I’ll explain once everyone is here.”

Phil looked curiously around the makeshift room. There were already four of them crammed in there, they were expecting more? They should’ve dug out a bigger space…

On cue, the door opened behind him, Philza moving to the wall to make more room. First in was the purple and teal stranger Philza had come to know as Karl Jacobs, the fairly new citizen of L'Manburg that often disappeared when not hanging out with his fiance. The two weren’t good friends, but more acquaintances. Karl was a story writer, and naturally - due to his age - Philza was one of those who had plenty to share. He had to admit - the young man was a very good writer.

Close behind was one who made Philza’s smile falter. Quackity was extremely on edge, following closely behind his friend. There were bags under his eyes, he clearly hadn’t slept at all last night. His eyes scanned around to everyone in the room, and when they landed on the familiar green sweatshirt and white mask, he instantly revolted.

“Oh fuck no. Nope. Nonononono.”

“Quackity…” Dream started.

“Whatever this is, I want nothing to do with it. Fuck you! Fuck you all!”

“Breathe, Quackity,” the old man said, stepping forward to relieve some of the tension.

“Really Phil?” The ice in his voice made the avian recoil a little bit. “You’re in with them too? I know who you stand behind when it comes to L'Manburg, but why go this far?”

Sapnap was the one to step forward. “Quackity what are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I know what this is? All of you against me? Huh? Yesterday it was Tubbo and now today it’s me? Who’s it going to be next huh? Fundy? Wh-what? You’re going through us one at a time until there’s no one left? That’s your big plan?”

“Quackity they called all of us here.”

The Vice President stopped, looking around the room. Phil could see that he didn’t want to believe that it was true. He had no idea what happened to him in the past few days to make him react like this. “Is this true?”

All of them nodded. He spent a specifically long time looking at the  _ Karlnap _ duo, the name they had started calling themselves since their engagement. Phil could’ve sworn he saw something briefly flash between all three of their gazes, but he ignored it when Quackity turned back to Dream, who had remained silent and observant during the whole thing.

“Fine. You have ten minutes.”

The masked leader nodded his head.

“I want to start off by making something very clear.” Dream clasped his hands together, leaning further on the table. “This information does not leave this room, under any circumstances. Everyone outside that door does not need to know what all is going on until it is needed. Understand?”

No words were spoken, only a collective response of head nods and grumbles.

Philza watched Dream take a deep breath, standing up fully. It was still impressive just how tall the young man held himself, both physically and figuratively.

“I understand that most of us in this room have stood on different sides of war at one point or another. We all come from our own nations and our own livelihoods. The agreements have been made that neither the SMP nor L’Manburg will interfere with the actions of the other. That being said, I come to you not as the member of the SMP, but as the admin and creator of this world.”

Phil nodded his head along with the others, honoring the man’s word.

“Something is here on the SMP. It breathes and lives, just like you and me. Yet, I have the suspicion it’s not mortal like us. It also has a mission, a goal, to create chaos and spread fear amongst everyone here, hence why this information should be kept secret.

“Two days ago, Punz, George, and I found Eret in his castle, bleeding from a stab wound and unconscious. We also discovered a blood trail that not only went perfectly through the wall of his storage room, but managed to scale itself two stories to Eret’s bedroom.”

“Fuck…” Sapnap whispered under his breath.

“Are you trying to say someone dragged him through the wall?” Karl questioned. “How’s that even possible?”

Dream shook his head. “We have no idea and we’re looking into it, but that’s what leads me to believe they’re not mortal. No living person could do that, and if they could we’d certainly know about it.”

“Is it just that?” Phil asked.

A white mask shook back and forth. “There’s more. Yesterday they attacked again, only this time the victim was Tubbo.”

Philza’s heart and soul dropped.  _ No _ , his brain pleaded, but not for his sake.  _ No that’s not possible _ .

“Having a feeling something was going to happen involving him, Sapnap and Quackity assisted me in searching through L’Manburg. Our search was swiftly brought to a halt when Ranboo called out for help from Phil’s house. We entered to find Ranboo holding a semi-conscious Tubbo in his arms.”

_ No. Ghasts no. In his own home even? No. Please. _

“Was he stabbed as well?” Karl asked.

“Surprisingly, no. And I say semi-conscious because while he was unresponsive, his eyes were open and he was seizing uncontrollably.”

“What about Ranboo?” Phil asked, trying to contribute to the conversation and get his mind under control. “Was he there when it happened?”

“If he was he can’t remember.”

“Damn.”

“He was pretty shaken too,” Sapnap added. “We took him back to Punz’s place with Tubbo to help him calm down, but it didn’t seem like it did anything. He was still in shock when I checked I left last night.”

Punz slightly raised his hand like a kid in school. “He was asleep when I checked on them this morning. Most likely from stress and shock, but I still don’t think he’s in the state for questions.”

“Okay. So what does any of this have to do with us?” Quackity questioned, his voice sharp. “Why call all of us here specifically.”

“Something tells me that the attacks on Eret and Tubbo weren’t random. Why else would two people with leadership positions be attacked with such little time in between? If whatever this is wants to spread fear, why not start with those who people look up to the most?

“Quackity, we called you here because - not only do you hold the title of L'Manburg’s vice president - but you are now the acting President until Tubbo recovers. That puts you in just as much of a vulnerable situation as Eret and Tubbo.

“Punz, despite not having any official leadership titles, you are one of the most important members on the SMP side. You’re one of our best defenders and people look up to you. Protecting you is a precaution.”

Phil keened in on his words. “Protecting? I’m assuming that means you have a plan?”

“The idea is to have you teamed with someone else. They’re not there to watch or spy on you, but rather to be there in the event something happens. So far each victim has been alone when the attack occurred, so having another person there might prevent another one from happening in the first place. This is temporary, set in place until we have resolved the issue.”

Phil watched as the scowl on Quackity’s face deepened. “Are the people self-assigned or placed on us?”

“If there is someone you can think of, then you are more than welcome to ask them, but we can help find someone if there aren’t any other options.”

The Vice President actually seemed surprised for the first time today, his face relaxing and shoulders lowering. Behind him, Punz once more raised his hand to speak.

“I’m fairly sure Awesamdude wouldn’t mind. He and I have been working on a project anyways so hanging out a little extra wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Dream nodded in approval. “That works. Quackity? Do you have anyone who might volunteer?”

“Ahh. I don’t know. Maybe Callahan? He’s been hanging around L’Manburg a lot.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

“Don’t worry you guys,” Sapnap interjected, moving to put a hand on Quackity’s shoulder and ignoring the man’s involuntary flinch. He really had been through some things the past few days. “I’ll find the asshoel before anything  _ serious _ happens.”

“Sapnap you’re on the list too.”

The sudden change in the air made Philza’s wings shiver. Sap turned towards his friend, who was once more leaning on the table and looking at his hands. A shocked and angry expression was frozen on his previously relaxed face.

“What?” His voice held the same icy tone as the space around them.

“You heard me.” Dream refused to look up.

“You realize that doesn’t make any  _ fucking _ sense right? I’m a fighter, a  _ warrior _ . It’s my responsibility to take care of threats. I’m not a leader.”

“But that still gives you power.” Dream finally raised his gaze, not that the emotionless mask gave any indication how he felt in regards to the situation. “You are one of the best fighters in this world, Sap. I have no doubt that you could easily take whoever this is out, but that still pins a target on your back. We have to protect you just as much as them, no matter how much you disapprove of it.”

“I don’t understand. You said there’s a problem, but you’re not letting me fix it? And if you say I’m one of the best and the person most qualified to handle this, why don’t you trust me enough to be able to defend myself?”

“Sapnap,” Punz said, taking a step forward from his spot against the wall. “I need you to listen to me, alright? Not as a person standing in this room, but as someone who’s been your friend for years.

“As much as I don’t want to admit this, you are  _ the _ strongest soldier out of all of us. And that’s coming from me.” The comment made Sapnap snort. “I’m not joking man. There is no doubt in my mind that you could take out this attacker without batting an eye.

“Then why won’t you all let me?”

“Because if we lose you, we’ve lost our best defender.”

Sapnap remained silent, looking around to everyone in the room. He even made eye contact with Phil, despite not having any influence on the conversation at the moment. The gears were clearly turning underneath his black hair and white headband. Eventually he sighed, shoulders releasing their tension.

“Fine, but I get to have Karl.”

“That’s one of the reasons I invited him here.”

On cue, the brown hair boy interlaced his fingers in Sapnap’s, drawing a large and loving smile to his face. It was heartwarming amidst the seriousness of the meeting.

“That’s all I have,” Dream interrupted, abruptly ending the meeting. “Please let someone know if you all see anything odd or out of the ordinary. And again, please don’t talk about this with anyone. We don’t need everyone freaking out if it doesn’t involve them.”

“Will do.” Punz answered,.

Sapnap said goodbye to his green friend, seemingly forgetting how angry he had been moments earlier. And though he received nothing more than a head nod in response, he still smiled, slinging his arm around his fiance and leaving through the door, Quackity leading the way. Punz followed closely behind the trio, most likely sticking close to them until he met up with his partner.

The dirt room was quiet now that everyone had gone, but it certainly wasn’t calm. The avian wasn’t expecting the audible groan that came from Dream, watching as he bent his knees and sank lower to the grown. His mask sunk into his black gloved hands, partially digging into the blond hair poking out from under his hood.

Philza knew all too well what Dream’s sudden change in position meant; he had three boys who all did it. There was something more going on. Dream hadn’t told them everything, holding in what he truly wanted to say. Did he… did he know who it was? Or was he pretending to be on top of things when he ultimately had no bloody idea? What were the odds that something else had happened that only he knew about, and wanted to keep it that way?

“Dream?” He asked softly, using what others often referred to as his “dadza” voice.

The man’s head shot up, having forgotten that he wasn’t alone.

“Phil…” His voice gave away that he wasn’t completely here, part of him disappearing into his mind and away from reality. The elder put his hands up in defense, giving the communication that he meant no harm.

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain anything.” Dream slowly raised to his feet, readjusting the mask to be flat on his face.

“What about you, Dream?” Phil asked, changing the subject. “You’re a leader, arguably the most important. Don’t you think someone should be with you too, even if it’s less for protection?”

The silence spoke for itself.  _ Yes _ . “No. I’m alright I need to be as available as possible, and in the event that anything happens, I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”

“That’s not necessarily a healthy way to think.”

“No, but it’s a reality.”

Phil nodded his head. This was the most relatable thing he had heard regarding the meeting today.

A thought ran through his mind. 

“I’m not actually here because you’re scared for my safety are you?”

“No.”

“Eh. I figured as much.”

He remained quiet as Dream turned towards the open space that was the window. The sun was fully in the sky now, and Phil could see indistinguishable figures moving about their day in L’Manburg below.

L’Manburg.

His  _ son _ s’ L’Manburg.

God how he missed all of them. His wise and adventurous oldest. His second, the one of extensive plans and self-confidence. And his youngest, filled with chaotic goodness and rarely spent a day without a smile on his face.

He wanted nothing more than to see them, to hug them, to love them, to let them know he still cares.

Phil’s gaze lifted to the green hood in front of him.

_ Maybe? _ ... 

“Dream. I understand that you don’t want them involved with anything regarding the SMP, especially not…  _ him _ .” Philza shivered at the aversion in his own voice. “But I feel this is something they need to know. Even if you don’t want them to assist in the search, preparing them with caution wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Philza looked down at the ground.

“May I please let them know?

_ May I please see them _ , the voice in his head asked, not wanting his second question - the real question - to be spoken into the air.

Philza already knew the answer. No one had to be a mind reader to know what the man was thinking. It made sense, to be honest. The two people he wanted to visit more than anyone in the world - his only remaining sons - were the two most hated amongst the entire server. Hell, one of them had fought against Dream and  _ won _ . Those two were the biggest rivals; two God-like figures constantly at odds with each other. The other was more of pain in the arse than murderous, but there was a reason he had been exiled. No one was allowed to see them except possibly Dream himself.  _ Ha, like that would actually happen _ .

The green man stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

With that the leader was gone, leaving the dirt room without any other world. Philza stared at the wooden door, a smile of disbelief crossing his face. He didn’t wait to be told twice, climbing up onto the open window. The avian paused, the wind only guaranteeing the feeling of happiness and excitement he felt.

He let his open wings do the rest, taking off into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise friends! I figured I would treat you with an early chapter. There will be another one on Monday - I promise. I just wanted to give you an extra one this week.
> 
> What do you all think of this so far? Do you like where it's going? What all can I work on? Would you all be interested in more stories like this? I hope to someday make writing a career, so I'm starting now with this. FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!!!
> 
> Thanks friends. Keep smiling and have a great weekend!


	8. Your Mercy is a Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*  
> *PLEASE NOTE BEFORE YOU READ*
> 
> This chapter contains some graphic depictions of violence, including but not limited to: implied/reference self-harm, mental manipulation, verbal and physical abuse, torture, physical torture, blood, gore, death, murder, etc.
> 
> If any of the subjects above make you uncomfortable or you prefer not to read them, there are two bolded lines that represent the beginning and end of the GDV (graphic depiction of violence) section. Once you reach the first one, you can skip to the second and the overall storyline will still make sense. There will also be a brief summary in the notes at the end to explain what was missed.

_“Please.”_

_“Please, no._ ”

_“DREAM!!!....”_

For the first time in months, Dream wasn’t awoken by voices.

There were no memories flashing through his brain, reminding him of every wrong-doing he’s responsible for, not even a hint of the ever-haunting dread or guilt following him around in its disapproving rain cloud.

No, he was awoken by a scream.

And a familiar one for that matter.

His emerald eyes opened swiftly, once again finding himself in the same stone room as before. He groaned, continuing to breathe there while panting. His brain was working tiringly to identify the voice behind the scream, it was right on the edge of his mind. Yet, he was getting multiple different names rather than one, ranging from his fiery best friend to the one he was still - not purposely - avoiding. Was it possible he had heard multiple different people crying out his name at the same time?

“Ah, he awakens.”

Dream closed his eyes with an audible sigh. He was really hoping this wouldn’t happen.

“Hello.”

A shadow passing over his face told him he was no longer resting in the middle of the room in peace, opening his eyes and looking as far up as possible without straining his neck. He was met with a pale and upside-down face, pink eyes glowing brightly.

“I missed talking to you last night.”

“Uh-huh.” Dream stood up, half-listening to what his compatriot had to say. Sure enough, it was the same room, with its dark walls and cold temperature that made him shiver, even if he was dreaming the whole thing.

“It’s nice having someone to talk to, someone who can meet me on an intellectual level.”

“ _Zaniyah_.” He finally turned around, meeting her maroon gaze. “Listen. We’ve been through this before. I know that I’m going to walk through that door and see either Ranboo crying or Tubbo being killed - BY YOU, I might add - and that’s that.”

“Except for the fact that the door is no longer there.”

Dream’s eyes grew wide and his head whipped to the walls. She wasn’t lying. There was no door, meaning no way in and no way out.

“Why?”

“Here’s the thing. By going through that door, you invited me into your mind, you let me in here. Now that you have, that door doesn’t need to exist anymore. I can simply come in whenever I like.”

“Then why haven’t you? What stopped you from coming into my head while we were searching for Tubbo? You could’ve done something before we even found him. You could have gotten away with it.”

“That’s the small little catch behind all of this. I’m not strong enough to be above you yet; we are still equal. Only when you’re sleeping can I interact with you in this manner. In order to do that - to have access during the day - I need more. More strength. More fear. You know…” She waved her hand in a circle. “All of that.”

The green man nodded his head and turned around, taking in everything. So this was really was his own mind. He was actually stuck in here. At least he had that over her- she couldn’t do anything during the day. Thank ghasts. 

His subconscious voice was repeating itself over and over. _Something’s not right here. Something is wrong. Run. Run far away._ Why? _Shut up and go_.

_No. Stay. Find out what she wants. This is your chance. Your mind, right? Doesn’t that mean you’re in control here?_

“ _Fuck it_ ,” he whispered under his breath. He sighed and turned around. “Alright. Then why am I her-”

Dream was cut off by a burning hand grabbing the underside of his chin. He hissed in pain as her fingers dug into his skin, almost drawing blood. As he tried to pry her hand away, her other hand wrapped around both his wrists, holding them near his chest. She forced him down a few inches, bringing them both to eye level.

“Sorry. I would’ve let you finish, but I’ve been wa _iting for too long_ .” Her eyes changed to a flaming, golden yellow. “ _Far too long_.”

Small tendrils curled their way up his skin, Dream struggling frantically to escape them. Some were cold to the touch and others burned paths into him, but both brought sparks of pain as they covered the sides of his face. His eyes burned and for a brief moment, he saw his eyes turn from emerald green to the same yellow in the reflection of her eyes. He screamed, falling backward when she let go of him.

All the air in his lungs was lost when his back landed on solid stone, the world around him completely black except for a small beam of white light bearing down on him. He turned over, propping himself up on his elbows to bring oxygen into his lungs, yet not fully standing up.

**_Do you really think you’re any better than me?_ **

Glowing colors appeared before his eyes, shining as lines through the darkness. A red building appeared, its outline representing two stories of bricks with wooden paths leading to it from either side. _The community house_ , his mind spoke for him, _no_.

_Even from the very beginning, you were bound to this destiny…_

Eight figures appeared, each with its own colors and defining features. He recognized each of them instantly; on the far right stood a green creeper and a red racing helmet, the other side held a girl with a black mask and a full brown outfit with antlers. The four most distinguishable stood in the middle, where Dream saw a version of himself with a green hood and smile staring back at him. Two stood on his left, the furthest was a black-haired boy with a white bandana across his forehead, and right next to him was a blue man with white glasses. To his right was a completely darked-out figure with red highlights, a pair of red horns sprouting from his head.

The original eight. They were the first in this world, the ones who built it from the ground up.

_You were the one who took their freedom and potential away…_

The image flashed twice, he winced at the sudden change. When all of them appeared again, each one except for himself had red crossing out their faces. Dream’s voice caught in his throat when he saw himself, his mask turning black and red blood dripping from his hands.

No. No that wasn’t right. He knew that. _He didn’t do that_.

_You may think that you didn’t, but what about everyone else?..._

“Tommy, can I ask you a question?” A voice said from the dark behind him. Dream turned around, seeing Sapnap with his own beam of light. In front of him was a blond-haired boy, but he could only see the backs of his red sleeves.

“ _When Dream said he didn’t care about anything…_ ” _No_ , Dream’s mind screamed. _No no no no no no…_ “ _He still cares about me right?_ ”

“Yes,” he cried, stumbling to his feet. “Yes, Sapnap. I care. I’m right here.”

_You say you do, yet you never care to show it…_

Sapnap’s figure disappeared, replaced by a piece of black glass falling from the ceiling. Dream was face to face with his own reflection, only it was covered by a gleaming white mask.

His mask, it was back on his face. When did that happen? Had it been there the whole time, or was it _Zaniyah_ torturing him even more?

What little breath he had left in his lungs disappeared as black tendrils spread their way over his mask’s white surface. The black dots and curve of its smile turned white against the black hue, and the skin on his face began to burn when it turned completely black.

He screamed, grabbing onto either side of the mask to pry it off. It wouldn’t budge, Dream tripping backward as his flight instincts took over his fight.

_Everything has been placed in the palm of your hand..._

An explosion went off nearby, and he instinctively covered his head against the rubble falling down on him. He was - he was in L’Manburg? How the hell? And not the recently destroyed and being rebuilt nation, the old one. _Wilbur_ ’s L’Manburg. His unfinished symphony, with its towering black walls encasing all within.

Yet, there were newer people here, those who hadn’t been around during the revolution. A little ways away was Quackity fighting alongside the Karlnap duo - _wasn’t Sapnap on his side?_ Off to their left were Fundy and Antfrost, the two animal hybrids standing back to back, swords drawn and ready. Even the young Ranboo was there, hiding behind a pile of broken stone, shielding himself from the bits of burning wood falling around him.

_Connected to everyone and everything…_

Dream hissed, a sheering pain cutting through his whole arm. His blood went cold at the sight of a red wire attached to his wrist, feeling the wire digging into his skin and wrapping around the bones there. It tugged backward, dragging him across the decimated ground. He writhed and turned, doing everything he could to free himself with what little strength he could maintain. 

The fight was still happening around him, no one noticing or sprinting to assist the struggling leader. Dream shouted as a spare sword almost impaled him, landing next to his head when an explosion went off a few feet away. With a quick movement, he grabbed the sword before he was dragged out of reach, slicing up to sever the cord. The second his wrist was disconnected, the wire in his skin vanished, leaving behind a purple blemish.

_You have always been the one in control…_

He rolled over, looking at the entrance to the nation. A large circular object loomed over the burning nation, its owner wearing a distinguishable green hood. Their mask flashed between white and back, their smile becoming the opposite with every switch. The shadow had fallen across him and everyone there, but Dream was the only one who noticed.

He screamed.

Dream couldn’t remember the last time he had screamed in genuine fear, in anger, in defeat. He had to get out of here. All this would happen if he managed to right?

_You can’t deny what you are, Dream…_

How was he supposed to get away? Didn’t he need to simply wake up and this would all be gone? But how, she was in control. And if he hadn’t woken up by all the pain now, then what else could he do?

_Death_.

The voice had been so confident he had almost mistaken it for Zaniyah’s, but no. It was his own, his own voice speaking to him.

It was right. Bad had told him that once. The mind could be a torture device when it came to nightmares, but one could never die in their dreams. It was something the body simply couldn’t do. One could get close, one could be convinced they were at the end of their life, but it never could never truly get to that point.

A flash shone in the corner of his vision, the sword his hand was so desperately gripping began materializing into a shorter, iron version of itself. A knife? He wasn’t sure, but it was sharp. It could work.

_You can’t deny what you have already done…_

He moved to be resting on his knees, staring at the blade he held in both hands. They were moving on their own, turning for the point to be directed at his core. He had to take deep calming breaths to calm himself, his hands visibly shaking around the hilt of the knife.

_And you certainly can’t deny what you are going to become…_

Dream didn’t hesitate, driving the metal into his chest. 

His eyes went wide. Where- where was the pain? Where was the feeling of death that was supposed to get him out of this hell hole that was his mind? He even took the liberty of patting his chest, no signs of blood or injury appearing.

_“Dream?”_ A soft and pained voice said.

Everything in his body froze. He whipped around, tears streaming down his face when he saw George stumbling towards him with a knife in his chest, exactly where Dream had been aiming at himself. He was already deathly pale and black blood coated his entire front. Dream had to lunge forward to catch him in time when he collapsed. Yet, as soon as his hands touched his best friend’s blue t-shirt, George turned evaporated into sparks, and Dream fell face-first into the stone.

**_That is what you will see in time..._ **

The visions vanished at once, L’Manburg and everyone else becoming nothing more than figments of a dream. He was once more in the stone room, curled up in a pained ball on the cold floor. He didn’t care how he looked, all he wanted was the comfort of himself.

Dream’s fingers curled and gripped his blond strands, pushing Zaniyah and the memories away despite nothing being there anymore.

“I think that’s enough for today,” her villainous voice spoke, still standing over Dream.

“Please stop.”

She slyly tilted her head. “Stop what?”

“Get out of my head.”

“Hmm. Sorry love, but you brought this on yourself.”

Her soft footsteps echoed through the room, leaving the boy to suffer. Part of him didn’t want her to leave, begging her to answer the questions that had sprouted after everything he just went through. Another was saying that he deserved all this, while a final portion was saying it was better if she stayed, for it meant that no one else had to deal with this bullshit.

“Who?” He choked out. She stopped, turning back around with a curious gaze.

“What?”

Dream took in deep breaths. His voice was almost gone thanks to the screaming and crying. “Who? Who did you go after this time? Whose life did you choose to ruin now?”

She tilted her head to the side, and for a second he wasn’t sure she had heard him or understood what he said. Yet he knew that wasn’t true. All she had to do was hear his thoughts and know what he was thinking of. If only that ability went both ways. If only he could hold that over her the way she held it on a string in front of his face.

The long amount of time without an answer was unusual, and Dream was wondering if she was actually debating telling him or not.

Zaniyah smiled, eyes sparkling with bright yellow.

“You’ll see.” 

*****

The man didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. That was in his job description, right? Be as sly as his hybrid half despite being human. It was a feature that wasn’t commonly focused on, but sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Especially when an unfamiliar figure appears where the supposedly “secret base” of the mysterious world creator is supposed to be.

The thick brush hid him well, which he was thankful for since he didn’t think before diving into them. At first, he had thought it was Dream, and in no way was he going to even _attempt_ to explain why he was there in the first place. There wasn’t a real reason anyway - he had just been curious, wondering what all was in the hills right next to spawn. He knew that Dream’s house was predicted to be here, but he wasn’t intending on _finding it_.

He had found it hadn’t he?

Everything in his nature was trying to be as quiet as possible, the only hint of noise coming from the flick of his bright orange tail with white tip flicking across the dirt and dried leaves. His instincts from the war were kicking in; that of a spy sent to gain information. It was no secret that Fundy had been L’Manburg’s only spy for the longest time, and it was honestly one of the reasons people were suspicious about him.

This person was weird. His dark oak eyes narrowed, trying to get a better glimpse of the character through the dark. They’re too tall to be a normal human - were they a hybrid? They were dressed in all black; possible enderman? They didn’t move like a mob though, turning completely around to look at the forest around them.

Fundy had to physically cover his mouth to keep silent.

Their eyes. The fuck? Orange? Yellow? Turning to red before his very eyes? They - they couldn’t be human. It wasn’t possible, not with those eyes.

With a blink, they were gone, vanishing into the night. He fell back further into the brush, not sure what to expect. They could teleport too? What the hell?

It can’t be a coincidence they were here, in this exact spot. Anywhere else and they could play it off, but not here. If there was a new person, they would all know about it by now, right? Or Dream would have told them if something had managed its way here. So why didn’t he? There has to be something going on that isn’t being shared, information that is being kept secret from all of them.

_Dream knows something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who skipped over the GDV section: Zaniyah shows Dream things he's done in the past with a dark twist, taking him through a journey of all the conflicts he had been apart of in attempts to convince him that he is the villain on the server.
> 
> What did you all think? I'm SO SO SORRY this is late. I've been dealing with mental health issues the past week. I'll try to keep steady updates from here on out. 
> 
> Thanks for reading friends. Feel free to let me know what you think and I'll happily reach out! Have a great day and don't forget to smile :)


	9. The Voices of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to avidBibliophile
> 
> Friend. You have no idea how much your comment meant to me. It honestly made my day and helped me in more ways than one. So this chapter is for you. Thank you for being such an amazing human being. Thanks for making me smile :)

Graceful wings opened wide, allowing two dark boots to land silently on the fresh powdered snow. On a normal landing, Phil would instantly curl his wings in, but out here in the tundra, they were an extra coat of warmth. He pulled his dark green cloak further over his shoulders, peering over his shoulder at the forest to his right; the dark spaces between the trees always made him uneasy.

Taking a deep breath, the old man sighed as a cloud appeared in front of his face, focusing on the lights of the white structure beyond.

The cabin of his son -  _ sons? _ \- was certainly appealing to the eye. It wasn’t as lavish as the temporary home Phil himself had in L'Manberg, but it did stand out on its own. The dark wood stood out against the white biome around them, so did the stone around the bottom that encased the basement.

The stone brick stairs, leading to the front door, were not unoccupied.

“Phil!” An excited ghost shouted in glee when he saw the oldman approach. His smile was a bright canyon on the pale landscape of his face.

“Hello Ghostbur,” that avian responded, giving an excuse to the tone in his voice as exhaustion rather than the feeling of grief. The ghost isn’t his son, but rather an embodiment of the goodness his eldest son once held. Yet, that didn’t stop the emotions from surfacing everytime he looked in the direction of his former son’s face.

Phil could still hear his echoes. Not the echoes of him begging for death, or shouting as he watched his great nation become reduced to rubble. No. The initial whimper as the diamond blade tore through his chest, the one quickly replaced by a smile of relief, haunted him daily. He could hear the jagged breathing as his son’s life slipped away in his own hand. They echoed along to the sounds of two people’s tears dripping onto a dust-ridden stone floor.

“Look what I made!” Phil flinched, being dragged back to reality. A piece of paper was being thrusted into his hands. It was a drawing - a painting really - something a young child would make. He would know, obviously; he still had some of his own son’s paintings stored safely away, each unique and ranging from Tommy’s happy bees and Tubbos to Techno’s extremely intense and occasionally questionable ones. 

This particular one had a large splotch of blue sitting in the direct middle of the paper, and it would’ve been floating if not for the four small lines that connected it to the green earth. On what he assumed was the subject’s face were two small black dots and a light triangle of pink. There were little patches of lighter blue in the sky as well, only these were holding space for the white clouds to stand out against the rustic color of the parchment itself.

“Can you guess what it is?”

Philza smiled calmly. “Ghostbur, this is a beautiful painting of  _ Friend _ . I’m sure he will love it very much.”

The ghost smiled, holding the paper close to his chest. Phil wanted to ask where the sheep was, exactly - it always was by Ghostbur’s side - but the ghost ran up the stairs before he could ask. He motioned for Phil to follow, waiting until he reached the top of the stairs to open the door.

“Techno!” Ghostbur entered the room with a smile. “Look who came to visit!”

Across the room, a head looked up from the book in its lap, standing upon seeing who had now entered his house.

From anyone else’s perspective, it was hard to believe the pink haired warrior was actually his son. He was significantly taller than the older man, and built like it too. He carried himself well, with a strong posture that put those of everyone else he came into contact with to shame. If his presence alone wasn’t enough to demand respect, the confidence in his shoulders and stride would certainly do.

What a mighty powerful son Philza had.

“Welcome home, Phil,” the deep voice said.

“Thank you, it’s great to be here.” He folded in his wings, them falling gracefully behind the back of his cloak. “Much better than where I am currently.”

“My offer will always still stand.”

Phil chuckled, hearing the click as Ghostbur closed the door behind him. “I know, but it’s better for me to be where I can know what’s going on rather than in the dark.”

Techno nodded his head in understanding, already grabbing a drink for the winged traveller. He was happy his son knew exactly what he was thinking. Flying was tiring, even for someone who enjoyed it as much as he did.

“Cheers mate.” He took the glass bottle, careful as to not drink the whole thing in one go. The sweet and honey-like liquid was cool to his air-strained throat. He looked around the small cabin, looking for that familiar streak of red and white to appear in his vision. “Where’s…?”

“PHIL?”

There he was. Phil’s youngest and arguably most troubling son. He turned at the sound of footsteps and a creaking ladder. A blond head popped out of the hole in the floor, the boy hurrying in excitement.

“Oi Techno. Is that Phil I hear?”

“No. It’s Dream.”

“Eh fuck off, bitch.” Tommy answered, moving to be standing in front of the smiling Phil. “What’s up big man.”

“Nothing much Tommy. How are you?”

“Better all things considered. Though my roommate is getting on me nerves.”

Phil’s eyes fell to his oldest son across the room, who was scowling with his arms crossed. “You moved into MY HOUSE, you raccoon. Feel free to leave whenever you please.”

“Buzz off.” Tommy scowled at the intended insult. “So what brings you here? Come just to visit your sons, ey?”

“Unfortunately no. I come with news and a message.”

Tommy chuckled playfully. “Ah did Tubbo finally decide to apologize?” Philza was taken completely off guard. “Took ‘m long enough.”

“Um…”

“I knew he would come around to it eventually.”

“No, Tommy. Just listen, alright?” The teen nodded. “Good. Something happened a few days ago…”

“Phil.” Techno interrupted, holding up his hands. His eyes flicked to the space behind Phil, where a smiling Ghostbur was looking on without any clue as to what was happening.

Right.  _ Him _ . Everyone knew that the ghost was  _ terrible _ at keeping secrets, completely opposite from his alivebur counterpart. He talked about everything to everyone on the server unless threatened against it - hence why no one else knew about Techno’s house - and Phil didn’t know if Dream would appreciate the Ghost overhearing what he had to say. The man had already helped him by letting him leave, he didn’t want to aggravate the situation more.

“Hey Ghostbur,” Techno started before Phil could think of something to say. “How’s your hunt for Friend coming?”

“Oh! It’s going alright. I checked towards the village today but I didn’t find any signs of him. Why you ask?”

“Well you know, it’s getting a little late and the sun is starting to go down. Maybe one more search wouldn’t hurt. I think I saw something towards the portal earlier today but didn’t have time to check.”

“Techno that’s a great idea! Thank you!” The ghost turned around, almost happily skipping the short distance to the door. Part of Phil didn’t want him to leave, the sight reminding him of the first time Wilbur had left home, that perfectly clear day with an equally perfect sky of blue…

“Ey Ghostbur?” The ghost had a curious expression on his face when he turned back towards Phil, which hit his heart even harder. “I’ve been having a pretty rough day and I’ve left all my blue at home. Do you have a small bit that I could borrow for a bit?”

Ghostbur smiled, blue appearing in his hands almost instantly. He was never too far without it. His face became even brighter as he handed it to the old man before turning and leaving them alone.

“Well,” Tommy started once the door closed all the way. “It’s not often that you voluntarily ask for blue. Aren’t you normally complaining about ‘im giving you so much?”

Philza turned, making eye contact with the sarcastic teen. He had thought about this the whole way here, and it had already drained so much of his energy, but now that he actually had to explain why he was there, his mind was completely blank. His hand instinctively gripped the blue in his hand tighter. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to ruin his youngest son like this. It was honestly taking everything he had to keep from breaking down right there.

“Tommy,” a deep voice said, drawing them both. His deep blue eyes made contact with the deep red of his middle son, no words needing to be shared.

_ He knows _ .

Not  _ what _ , but  _ who _ .

“Tommy I don’t think the blue is for him.”

The blond slowly turned back to Phil, his face changing at the sight of his face. His eyes wouldn’t leave the blue as it was held out to him, even after it was dropped in his hand, but when he did, Phil could see the confusion and worry flashing through his sapphire eyes.

“Phil?”  _ Fuck, he sounds like a kid _ . “What happened?”

“Someone has been attacking people on the SMP,” Phil started, not able to hold anything back anymore. “There’s been two victims so far, and both cases are unexplainable. No one - and I mean  _ no one _ \- knows who it is or how they are managing it. They’re trying to figure out what happened, but there’s no telling if they’ll be able to.”

Phil felt his wings under his cloak shiver, flashes of something unexplainable happening to any of his sons - alive or ghost.

“Dream has instructed everyone who is a leader or has a position of power to be put on watch for their own safety. He wants to make sure that everyone is as safe as possible and that everyone gives him a little bit of trust to figure it out.” He heard Tommy scoff. “He’s the one who sent me here. He gave me full permission to share this information with you, even with all things considered.”

There were two different expressions looking back at him. Techno looked as if he was almost impressed by what he had just heard about Dream, but still held some concern for the physical events going on. Tommy, on the other hand, hadn’t completely changed, falling deeper into confusion and worry.

“Phil?”

His gaze turned to Tommy, surprising himself with how he was able to keep the eye contact.

“Phil.” This one wasn’t a question. “What is it you want to tell me?”

He sighed. “I’m so sorry Tommy.” His voice almost broke. “Tubbo was the second victim.”

The air became as equally cold as the winter outside the cabin. It was an interesting sight to say the least; the Piglin hybrid watching with blank expressions, the avian holding his breath in anticipation, and the teen staring at his father with eyes wide.

“Is- is h-he…” Tommy stammered.

“He’s alive…” His voice trailed off, the words he wanted to say right at the tip of his tongue.

“But?” Tommy said for him, voice dark, emotionless, and cold.

“No one’s sure what’s gonna happen.”

Philza Minecraft saw the moment that his son’s heart broke. There was a sudden dip in his knees, though only a visual aspect as the boy’s pride kept himself from collapsing to the ground. His hands curled in, holding the blue close to his body. His eyes - formerly a vibrant and bright sky blue - were now dull, yet still filled to the brim with emotion.

His fatherly instincts kicked in, reaching forward and pulling Tommy into a big hug. The boy didn’t fight or give in, simply accepting the comforting warmth that surrounded him.

“Why don’t you go find Ghostbur,” Phil suggested, taking a step back. “I’m sure he will be able to comfort you much more than I can.”

Tommy simply nodded, shuffling across the floor to the double wooden doors. A chilling breeze brought snow flakes into the cabin once the door was open, and that was the last thing Phil felt before it was just him and his middle son left in the room.

Phil sighed, the floorboards creaking under his shifting weight. His depressed blue eyes met ruby ones with no emotion.

“You alright Phil?”

“That was so much harder than I expected, but exactly what I knew would happen, all at the same time.”

“Comes with being the bearer of bad news.” 

Phil looked down at the floor, sadness finally spreading all over him. He couldn’t relax just yet, on the other hand. There was more than one message he had been entrusted to give.

“Techno, Dream sent me to warn you.” 

A grunt came from the man, turning back to his chair, or more specifically, the arm table off to its left. It was occupied by the book he had been reading earlier, a lantern to illuminate the dark space, and the top half of a signature, eerily white pig skull.

“He theorizes that whoever it is is specifically going after leaders, and though you are anti government, you were the one who basically led the revolution against Manberg, not to mention other conflicts. That puts a target on your back, one that no one should have.”

“No one  _ should _ have or no one  _ could _ have?” Techno picked up the skull, admiring it. “You know the terms Dream and I both stand on.”

“Yes. I know that your rivalry is as equally as complicated as my own connection to him, but that doesn’t change anything that he’s doing.” He rested four fingers gently on his son’s hand, bringing back his attention. “This person - this  _ thing _ \- is powerful, Techno. Think about what that means. If Dream has gone out of his way to give me this message and grant me a visitation with you, surely that means that Dream himself is outmatched.”

Techno’s eyes grew smaller. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting - I’m warning. Your power and skills are unmatched in this world except for one person. That person being Dream. So believe me when I say that I fear this person might take you too. While I have no doubt you could take whoever this is in a fight, you are still my son. I still care about your safety. I don’t want you risking your life for this.”

The unspoken words remained in the air.  _ I don’t want to lose you too _ .

A chill ran down his spine as he saw his son’s eyes dull, Phil left to stare at someone who wasn’t even there. Yet, he didn’t worry. It was frequent with his middle son, something that the man had inherited from himself. Plus, he had been watching it happen ever since he stepped inside, his son suddenly It only lasted a minute, Techno blinking as his eyes returned to their full and natural red. His pale fingers ran through his long pink hair, a coping mechanism.

Phil gave a slight chuckle.

“Now, what are the voices saying?”

“They’re currently spamming  _ ‘E’ _ , but…” 

Phil raised an eyebrow, Techno’s eyes flashing dull once more, shorter than previously.

“Now, they’re slowly starting to understand.”

“Good. How about you personally?”

Techno nodded his head slowly. “I understand what you’re saying, as much as I want to deny it.”

“If that’s the best I get, then I will take it. And maybe you should listen to your friends there.” He pointed at Techno’s pale forehead. “As much as I know you hate them, I think they might be more useful than detrimental in this situation.”

A sarcastic smile broke the warrior’s face. He put his hands up in the air, stepping back a bit. “You have your own voices Phil, and by the sounds of it, they actually help you. Mine are just stupid. You have no idea what all I have to deal with.”

Phil chuckled looking at the ceiling. He pointed at the wood above them, though Techno was too busy getting into his food chest to notice. “Mind if I make home in your attic?”

“Nah. Go ahead.” He threw some potatoes into his blast furnace. “Always yours to use.”

The avian made sure his wings were curled in fully as he climbed through the small hole in the ceiling, wood creaking below him. The attic wasn’t as tall as the main floor, so Phil felt the overwhelming need to duck though it wasn’t necessary. His shoulders greatly relaxed at the sight of the open bed on the left side, the only one up there. Despite there being three other people in the house, he knew it was for him. Tommy’s bed was undoubtedly in the basement, Techno didn’t sleep unless he absolutely needed to, and Ghostbur - no one was really sure what the ghost did, but this wasn’t his bed nonetheless.

Phil smiled at a memory that flew gracefully through his mind. The sleeping situation between all three of his sons wasn’t any different than when they were kids. Wilbur always claimed to go to bed at a decent time, but as soon as his door closed, Phil never really knew what he did in there. Oftentimes he would hear the faint strums of a guitar at two in the morning, and as long as it didn’t wake up his brothers, Phil didn’t really care. Techno never seemed to sleep. He always had too much to do, too much to learn, and such little time to do it. There were many occasions when Phil would have to force Techno to get a few hours of sleep when he learned his middle son hadn’t slept in days. And the lack of sleep never affected Techno, but rather seemed to make him stronger. Then there was Tommy, the youngest who always wanted to take after his brothers, and managed to in almost everything except for sleep. The youngest would always say that he didn’t need to go to sleep, that he wasn’t tired, or could stay up for a few more hours. Yet the many times Phil had carried the sleeping boy to his room and tucked him in spoke for themselves.

A tear streaked down the old man’s face.

How he wanted that back so much, what he would give for life to go back to those times and remain on forever. To have all three of his sons alive and living with him, none of them leading in wars or being exiled from the places they would  _ all _ call home. He knew it wasn’t possible, that time moves on and you can’t fly back to the past to change anything. Things were the way they were. That was that...

“ _BRUH_ ,” A deep booming voice shouted from downstairs, shaking the walls. “ _I HAVEN’T LEFT MY HOUSE. STOP SAYING TECHNO-LOST, YOU NERDS_.”

The seriousness of the previous moment was gone, Phil doubling over in laughter. The act of laughing brought relief over him and the tears that dripped down his face took the pain away. It took him a while to calm down, the warm blanket of exhaustion following in short. His wings wrapped around him in comfort, and Phil felt himself falling asleep instantly; the sleepy avian couldn’t help but smile.

He had flown a long way home today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Hi friends! So I have the rest of this story planned out and would like to start working on the next one for you. Problem is, I have too many ideas to choose from. So, I was wondering if you could help me out and fill out this survey. I promise it is completely anonymous and is purely to help me plan my next story. Just copy and paste the whole URL into your browser and it should take you right there.
> 
> https://forms.gle/Z6Kp9cXyFA5DyZ6Q9
> 
> Other than that, that's really everything. Thanks for reading friends! Have a great rest of your day and don't forget to smile!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! HAPPY FREAKING NEW YEARS! Welcome to this new story of mine. I was blown away by the support on my last story (my first one to this fandom) so I decided to give it a second shot.
> 
> Please let me know what you all think about this story, it greatly assists me in the writing process of future chapters/stories and lets me know how my writing is improving overall. This is my twenty-first story on AO3 and I have put countless hours into improving my writing skills in hopes of one-day making story writing a possible career.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, questions, or suggestions and I will happily answer them. Thanks for reading you beautiful people, and don't forget to keep on smiling :)


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